


Slice Of Heaven

by SMITSJUSTAJAYREALLY



Series: Slasher Flick Fics [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Angels demons and humans are gonna die, Aziraphale Has a Vulva (Good Omens), Aziraphale has a Vagina (Good Omens), Blood and Violence, Body mutilations, Character Deaths, Creepy mirror ghostly voyeurs, Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), Crowley Was Raphael Before Falling (Good Omens), Elevator Sex, Established Relationship, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, F/M, He/Him Pronouns For Aziraphale (Good Omens), He/Him Pronouns For Crowley (Good Omens), Horror movie and murder mystery elements and tropes, Hurt/Comfort, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Infidelity (Not between the Ineffable Husbands), Jealous Crowley (Good Omens), M/M, Married Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Mpreg, Nightmares, Other, PTSD, Protective Aziraphale (Good Omens), Protective Crowley (Good Omens), Racism from a celestial/infernal standpoint, Talks of pregnany
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-13 11:27:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 19
Words: 64,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28652739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SMITSJUSTAJAYREALLY/pseuds/SMITSJUSTAJAYREALLY
Summary: Do you like scary movies and murder mystery whodunits? Do you like Good Omens? Well then, I’ve got just the thing for you!Aziraphale and Crowley are off to a two week getaway to Heaven’s best (and only) luxury resort. It’s been 20 years since the world didn’t end and 18 since the Truce has been called between Heaven and Hell. There are no opposite sides anymore, all of existence living in peaceful harmony.But it seems someone doesn’t like this new way of life and wants to cause havoc in the most demented and deadly of ways.❤️💜💙🧡💚💛
Relationships: Adam (Good Omens)/Arakiel (Original Character), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Beelzebub/Gabriel (Good Omens), Beelzebub/Michael (Good Omens), Dagon/Uriel (Good Omens), God/Satan | Lucifer (Good Omens), Hastur (Good Omens)/Muriel (Original Character), Hastur/Ligur (Good Omens), Hastur/Sandalphon (Good Omens), Pepper/Adam Young (Good Omens)
Series: Slasher Flick Fics [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2128356
Comments: 84
Kudos: 29





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Shout out to BGHoman for helping me come up with the title to this story.
> 
> Love you all. Hope you enjoy ❤️

**Twenty Years After The World Didn't End**

"Are you nearly ready?" Crowley calls to the second floor. "They'll be here soon, and you know how tetchy they can be about waiting."

"Yes, yes, not that they don't make us wait. They may have said six-thirty, but that doesn't mean they'll be punctual. They hardly ever are." Aziraphale appears at the top of the cottage's polished wooden staircase It’s carpeted, like the rest of the home, in crimson red. The plush floor covering is a beautiful compliment to the dark browns of the shelving, and soft cream of the walls.

"I'm sorry for being snappish dear." The angel worries with the hem of his floral button down. Speaking of something lovely and well put together, Aziraphale is beautiful in his tan trousers, floral shirt and tartan sandals. Heaven, he's perfect all the way down to his pedicured feet. "This retreat always makes me so terribly fretful."

"I know Angel." Crowley rushes up the steps to meet him, taking Aziraphale's fluttering hands in his own. "But it's good that this system now exists. A once a year, two week long retreat is worth enduring to make certain things don't return to the archaic way they had been."

Aziraphale shudders. The angel tends to worry, most often over the things he loves, and Crowley knows he is at the top of that list. At least for a while more. Part of this time away will be to work on creating something they would both love as much as they love each other.

But Crowley knows that isn't where Aziraphale's mind is right now. He's thinking of the millennia he and Crowley had to pretend to be enemies, to hold one another at arms-length in order to keep the other safe from the wrath of Heaven and Hell.

All that changed eighteen years ago. An official Truce was called between the two opposing forces. Through memos and weekly meetings, both sides agreed to stop fighting, and instead work to keep humanity and nature balanced.

A middle ground was created, which is simply called Paradise. Creator angels of both the Host and the Fallen worked side by side bringing to life this vast expanse now occupied by the majority of deceased humans. Crowley had been a huge part of it's design, drawing up the blueprints himself.

Hell continues to work as a holding area for the bit of humanity who seem to delight in cruelty and all sorts of evil ire. It's not so much used as punishment but a way to keep these souls from wreacking havoc on the others.

No longer is it a sin to question, to refuse to follow blindly. In fact, questions are encouraged as being the only way a community can become better. It was decided unanimously that the old forms of leadership were suffocating to any sort of spiritual life. Crowley has risen from low-ranking demon, to advisor and go between for both Heaven and Hell. He knows Aziraphale is proud of his new position, but the angel also seems terrified that it's all an elaborate trick to take Crowley away when they least expect.

Heaven is now the meeting ground, where plans and ideas could be organized to better help the human race. That's where this holiday retreat will take place. The coming fortnight is not so much a meeting, but a group holiday that will contain opportunities for socialization and ways for both sides to catch-up, bond and relax from the previous year's work. Held annually the last two weeks of October, Heaven is revamped into a luxury resort.

"Have you spoken to Adam?" Aziraphale leans into Crowley as the demon winds an arm around the angel's waist.

The humans are also, now, well-aware of Heaven and Hell's existences. In the year between the Notmaggeddon and the Truce, Gabriel and Beelzebub had brought the entirety of their forces upon the earth. Their intent had been to annihilate one another, and they had succeeded in eliminating a large number of celestial and infernal beings.

In the mayhem they had also caused a great deal of devastation to earth, and Adam Young had not taken kindly to it. Earth is his realm, and because of this, he is more powerful than any other being, God and Satan aside, so long as he is within contact of the planet's soil or atmosphere.

Heaven and Hell were forced to stop their onslaught or else face extermination by the hands of the Anti-Christ. It was at this time that the Truce was formed. Gabriel continues to run Heaven, Beelzebub has Hell, Uriel and Dagon do a surprisingly good job of governing Paradise jointly, and Adam rules on earth, assisted by his advisors, Crowley, Pepper, Brian, Wensleydale, and Isla Kensington, one of the world's leading officials on theology and philosophy.

"Not since his last televised conference in July." Crowley leads his Angel to the age-old sofa that has been with them since their days in the Soho bookshop. It's now situated beside the large front window of the cottage's sitting room. From that position, Crowley can cuddle and chat with his angel, while also allowing him to see when their companions arrive outside. "But I spoke with Pepper via text last night."

"Are you certain she said six-thirty? It's a quarter until seven now." Aziraphale pulls his legs up on the sofa's cushions and snuggles onto Crowley's chest. The demon wraps his arm around his Angel's shoulders, drawing him close. Aziraphale gazes up at his husband, the corners of his blue eyes creased with worry, but full of love. "I would hate for us to be tardy."

Crowley chuckles, placing a kiss to Aziraphale's downy hair. "We can't be late, Angel. Not really. We have until midnight to check in." Crowley nuzzles the angel's temple, realizing there are some fears that, although now a moot point, will never leave him. "Neither of us will be punished if we are late. Everything will be fine. Our world isn't ruled by frivolous judgments anymore."

"I know you're right, but I can't shake the fear. Not after they almost.....” Aziraphale's face pinches tight.

Crowley knows Aziraphale's worries aren't for the angel himself, they never have been. His anxieties are for the demon holding him close. Aziraphale's worst nightmare is that one of the Host will return to their old ways and destroy the being he loves. Crowley refrains from informing his spouse, that he feels Hastur is a much more likely threat to his well-being than any archangel.

Gabriel is actually pleasant these days. Crowley isn't sure he'll ever completely forgive him for ordering Aziraphale to die, but the bumbling goof does seem to be trying. Gabriel spends the majority of his time in Crowley and Aziraphale's presences kissing their arses.

Michael has taken to her new duties as all good and loyal soldiers should. With Adam as ultimately everyone's head commander on issues involving earth, she wouldn't dare harm the four humans or angel and demon he keeps as his closet friends.

"I cannot comprehend how you and the humans don't get more tore up about all of this." Aziraphale's fingers dig further into Crowley's dark t-shirt. "The moment we arrive, Adam loses his powers. Heaven and Hell could flip on us in a heartbeat."

"I used to." Crowley stares into deep blue pools, wishing he had the words to calm Aziraphale's fears. "The first few years I thought it might be a set up, but it was worth it to try and make things as they are now." He again places his lips in soft, blond down and leaves them there. Crowley murmurs into feathery curls. "But it's been long enough now, I feel like it's okay. We can allow ourselves to relax and enjoy the peace we've helped to bring about."

"I'm sorry." Aziraphale nuzzles his face against Crowley's neck. "You know I'm a worrier by nature."

"Funny duo us." Crowley turns his head so that his cheek settles atop Aziraphale's hair. "The demon optimist and the angel pessimist."

"I love you Crowley." Aziraphale sounds affronted but doesn't pull away. "I couldn't live on this planet without you."

"Do you really think so little of me? Do you believe I would ever put you in needless danger?" Crowley pulls back. Hooking a finger under Aziraphale's chin, he lifts his Angel's face to his own.

"Of course not." And the question leaves Aziraphale looking so very wounded, that Crowley wishes he hadn't asked. "But you remember the second war. Heaven was more interested in destroying you and assimilating me back into the flock. Your existence is at a much greater risk than mine."

Crowley bites his lip. It's true, Hell had treated them both as merely random, faceless enemies, but Heaven had a vendetta out for Crowley. They had attempted to assassinate him, with the intention of taking Aziraphale back by force. The terrifying part is, they had nearly succeeded nineteen years and three months earlier. Crowley wouldn't be here now if not for Adam's intervention. "I love you too Angel. I'd never leave you to this life alone if I could help it."

Aziraphale watches him warily. "You took that risk those first few years."

"Because if we hadn't, Heaven and Hell might not have stuck to the Truce, and if war had broke out again, one of us, if not both, would've been lost for sure." Crowley kisses Aziraphale's soft, pink lips, sending shivers down the demon's spine, as they always have. "This is a celebration of those first meetings, and how important they were for us and our world."

"You're right dear heart." Aziraphale kisses him again. "But expect that I shall be watching you like a hawk the entirety of our get away."

“I’d hope for nothing less.” Crowley smiles at his Angel endearingly and Aziraphale returns him a smile that could light up the night sky. A noise is heard from outside, and Crowley turns to peer out the window, catching sight of four humans and one half supernatural being standing on the lawn. “They’re here, Angel. Let’s grab our bags.”

Crowley, of course, carries most of the luggage. Not that Aziraphale expects it of him. In all actuality, the principality tends to attest ardently about the way his demon insists on carrying most of their burdens.

“I am the one trained as a warrior, my dear.” Aziraphale tuts when Crowley ladens himself with six of their seven pieces of luggage, leaving only his cosmetics bag in Aziraphale’s stead.

“Yes Dove. But it pleases me to no end to spoil you.” Crowley struggles to keep his usual saunter while hauling two duffel bags on each shoulder and gripping the handles of wheeled suitcases in each hand. “Let me do this. I love taking care of you.”

Aziraphale holds open the door for Crowley and locks the cottage door behind them. The homestead is vast and isolated from the nearest small village, making it the perfect spot from which to depart each year.

Aziraphale tips his head in greeting to their newly arrived friends. “It’s good to see you all. Everyone looks well.”

“I feel well, thank you.” Adam smiles, grasping Pepper’s hand.

“Did you have a pleasant anniversary?” Aziraphale continues his pleasantries to the adult former-antichrist-but-still-half-supernatural being and his wife.

“We are using this getaway as our celebration.” Pepper tilts her chin up. “Adam felt it prudent to not waste money when the need isn’t warranted.”

“How very clever.” Crowley drawls, failing to hide his mild annoyance. “Do you mind if we get going? These bags aren’t getting any lighter.”

Aziraphale releases an indignant huff, and gestures for everyone to draw into a close circle. He steps away from Crowley so that the circle, if looked upon clockwise goes Adam, Isla, Crowley, Wensleydale, Aziraphale, Brian and Pepper. This configuration is needed to ensure the humans present can safely and successfully make the trip. The only way to do so, is for them to be in direct contact with a supernatural being.

Aziraphale firstly miracles everyone’s luggage onto Heaven’s landing pad, and then each being takes the hands of the beings to their left and right. That is, except for Adam, who continues to only hold Pepper’s hand, leaving his left hand free to lift and snap.

Crowley still isn’t sure how this sort of inter-dimensional travel affects the humans, but for himself it feels like every atom within him is being pulled into a single elongated stream. Thank Satan it never lasts very long, maybe a few seconds, and Crowley is standing on a long concrete tarmac still holding Wensleydale and Isla’s hands.

Releasing both of the humans, Crowley returns to his husband’s side.

Every few yards are drawn circular sigils. The one Crowley and his companions stand in is specific for traveling to and from earth. Since only this small group travels from that particular blue orb, they are expected to arrive together.

The other circles surrounding them are also customized for those traveling from Hell and Paradise. Both locations vastly populated by the angels and demons who now live and work there. The hundreds of sigils for each are made specifically for the individualized professional departments or (to Crowley and Aziraphale’s delight) family units.

The ineffable duo had set a new standard when it came to love and family. No longer is romantic love seen as taboo between angels and demons. (It had never been taboo between angel and angel or demon and demon. Where do you think new angels and demons come from after all?)

The construction of and the daily operations of Paradise helped much of this new progression as well. For the past nearly two decades the desegregated group of otherworldly beings have lived and worked in close contact with one another. Romances blossomed and families have been formed.

Fear had arisen among celestial and infernal beings only two years after the Truce, when the first celestial/infernal child had been conceived. There had been debates on whether such a creature (as the radically old-fashioned had called the child) should be permitted to exist.

Crowley had felt such compassion for the young couple as each of the child’s mothers had begged for their baby’s life.

Miraculously, God and Satan themselves had both stepped in to settle the matter, stating any creation made through love is not a sin. As long as both parents want the child, it has every right to exist.

Not since then has the duo interfered again. Satan, as an appeasement to Adam, and the God whose heart he had broken and eternity ago, left his son to run his own life and planet. Satan and God went off together, to patch things up. They’ve spent the last 18 years in their own pocket dimension on a sort of grand honeymoon unaware of what is happening on the realms of Earth, Heaven, Hell or Paradise. Crowley has speculated to Aziraphale that he thinks they may be off ‘creating’ something new all over again.

Aziraphale snatches up one of the duffel bags, Crowley’s cosmetic bag and one of the wheeled suitcases before Crowley has a chance to retrieve them. The angel throws his husband a playful smile before walking off, forcing the demon to catch up.

There are no protective walls anymore, no gates around Heaven. If you are a being capable of traveling here, then you are welcome. The former starkness of Heaven is gone. It finally looks and feels like the sort of place in which one might strive to live out eternity. A beach and vast ocean surround on every side, except the one through which they’ve entered. A tall luxury hotel is to the far left and a beautiful concert and Dancehall rises proudly to their far right. An array of restaurants and businesses for entertainment are stretched in a horseshoe shape lining the beach between the two larger structures.

In the center, spread out before them, a large garden with a beautiful ornate gold and concrete fountain in the center. The statue on top is of God and Satan holding hands and standing together united. (The water is most definitely not holy. All holy water has been destroyed and the creation of such, same as hellfire, is strictly prohibited.)

The sun is setting on the horizon as they step into the lobby of the hotel. Of course, it’s all simulated. The new normal for all beings is to mimic humanity and to help keep a decent sleep, eating and business schedule, there must be some way of signaling the passage of time.

“Aziraphale, Principality of the Eastern Gate and Crowley, Serpent of Eden.” Crowley informs the rather beefy, muscular angel behind the counter. The demon finds himself suddenly feeling very small and unattractive.

Crowley’s feelings of intimidation are worsened when the muscular angel smiles directly at Aziraphale and gestures for one of his coworkers to help Adam and the humans.

“You’re in room 1021.” Much to Crowley’s chagrin, the bastard rounds the counter, key card in hand and attempts to relieve Aziraphale of his bags. “Please allow me. A good spouse would never make anyone as lovely as you carry anything.”

“No, they wouldn’t.” Crowley growls low. “But my Angel is strong willed and feels the need to take care of me as much as I do him.”

“Not only famous and beautiful, but also thoughtful.” The interloper looks Aziraphale over in awe. The demon fights a primitive urge to claw the arsehole’s face off. “I’m Yemuel. If you won’t let me carry your things, at least allow me walk you to your room.”

Crowley snatches the key card from between Yemuel’s middle and index fingers. “No thanks. We got this.”

The redhead spies a luggage cart from near the lift and utilizes it to relieve both himself and Aziraphale of their burdens. Taking his Angel’s hand in one of his and the cart with the other, Crowley addresses his husband’s fan one last time. “We’d like as much privacy as possible for the evening. There are things I plan to do to and with my Angel, that no one else need be privy to.”

Hoping he’s made his point, Crowley drags the rickety metal cart and his beautiful, coveted angel inside the lift. He already knows what’s coming when the doors close.

Once alone in the vertically moving metal box, Aziraphale crowds Crowley against the mirrored lift wall and thrusts their pelvises together. “And what exactly was that about?”

“Didn’t like the way he was looking at you.” Crowley grabs two handfuls of Aziraphale’s plush bottom, pulling the angel against him tighter. He gasps as Aziraphale leans in close and nips at his throat. “Didn’t like the way he was talking to you, the things I could tell he wanted to do to you.”

“Are you jealous my love?” Aziraphale likes it when Crowley gets jealous. Crowley likes that Aziraphale wants to be reclaimed each time it happens.

Aziraphale covers Crowley’s mouth with his own, teasing it open with his tongue, while undoing the snap and zip of the demon’s trousers. The sound Crowley makes when Aziraphale takes his cock into his warm plush hands, reverberates off the sea of mirrors surrounding them.

“Fuck, yesssss, I’m jealoussssss.” Crowley can’t control his hiss. He moans into Aziraphale’s hot mouth, as he fumbles with removing the barrier of his Angel’s own trousers and pants.

Crowley shoves the trousers to the floor and slips his hand into the waistband of his lover’s pants. His fingers delving inside another deep, wet heat. “How could I not be? It’s a torment and a blessing loving a creature as impossibly perfect as you. You’re irresistible. Enticing and oh so delicious.” Crowley lifts the pussy slicked fingers into his mouth and licks them clean before returning them to the Heaven from which they came. “I hate the looks you get from others who want to steal you from me.”

“Crowley.” Aziraphale whines, his face falling into his lover’s neck. “Please darling. Stop time and take me against this wall.” Aziraphale’s teeth scrape the length of Crowley’s jugular. “Fill me with your seed so that the world can know I’m yours.”

Crowley snaps his fingers, but time doesn’t stop. He’s too horny to care. Pushed too far over the edge by Aziraphale’s tongue being pressed again into his mouth. The angel’s plump hand pumping his dick. The fact Aziraphale’s pants have now also departed from his dripping, soft effort and the reminder of the next step they’d agreed to pursue together and have been fucking like rabbits in hopes of making happen.

“Bugger!” Crowley growls and slaps the button on the lift’s control panel to manually make the machine stop. Switching their positions, Crowley now pushes Aziraphale against the reflective wall. He lifts the angel in his arms, and using the wall for support, Crowley enters the wet warmth of his husband’s waiting vagina. “Satan help me. Angel, you feel so damn good”

“A-Ah my d-dear.” Aziraphale stutters, his curves bouncing with the force of Crowley’s thrusts. His nails digging into the demon’s shoulders, as he wraps his strong legs around Crowley’s waist. “Yes! Yes! Yes!”

“I’m sorry.” Crowley laments being unable to get to more skin, to not have access to Aziraphale’s pert pink nipples. “When I get you in, into the room.” Crowley struggles to catch his breath well enough to speak between his frantic thrusts. “I swear. I’ll, I’ll make love to you. Over and over and over. All n-night. Making it, making it soooo much better. So much better than this.”

“Don’t. Don’t say s-sorry.” Aziraphale makes a high-pitched keening noise and Crowley nearly comes. “Love, you feel so good!”

The angel screams the last sentence, followed by a moan. Both so loud Crowley wouldn’t be surprised if the entire damn resort has heard him. Aziraphale’s pussy clenches tightly around Crowley’s sensitive dick, the demon follows the angel into ecstasy, the two of them screaming the other’s name.

“Was that good for you Love?” As they come down from their shared climax, Crowley lowers them both to the floor and kisses his husband softly.

“Oh, my darling. Every time with you is extravagant.” Aziraphale strokes his right hand through Crowley’s hair, the left tracing a line up and down the demon’s back.

Crowley doesn’t want to leave inside his Angel, but he finds himself slowly growing limp until there is finally no choice.

Crowley stands helping his love to his feet. “Shall we continue to the room? I should be capable again in ten to fifteen minutes.”

“I do believe I was promised multiple times all through the night.” Aziraphale giggles before glancing down. His brow furrows as he pulls on his pants and trousers.

“You alright, Angel?” Crowley watches him closely. As he rights his own clothing and restarts the lift, the demon suddenly worries he’s been too rough. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“No, my dearest.” Aziraphale smiles and hooks his arm with his lover’s. “It’s nothing to worry about, I’m sure.”

“If something is bothering you, I’d like to know.” Crowley kisses Aziraphale on the temple. A second later the doors open to the 10th floor and both beings step out in search of their room.

Neither of them noticed the dark hooded figure watching from the other side of the mirrors’ reflection.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We get some tender moments before shit starts to get real.

_The day had started beautifully. They had fed the ducks, picnicked in the park and now Crowley kneels before him, looking to Aziraphale with hopeful topaz eyes. The demon is absolutely resplendent in tight, black jeans, a fitted charcoal sweatshirt and black heeled boots. His right hand is extended toward the angel, a ring held between his thumb and index finger. Crowley's other hand resting on his knee, the poor dear looking as if he might tip over from nerves._

_"Aziraphale, I know we've only been official for a year, but I've loved you for millennia." Lifting his left hand from his knee, Crowley takes Aziraphale's and moves the gold band to hover near the tip of the angel's left ring finger. "I hope this isn't too fast, and if it is, I'll slow to whatever speed you need..."_

_"Yes! The answer is yes!" Aziraphale pushes his finger through the ring, tears spilling from his eyes. The angel drops to his knees as well and pulls Crowley close. "I accept. I fully and wholeheartedly accept."_

_They kiss, clinging to one another in the crisp November air. The moment is romantic and absolutely perfect. That is until Crowley is shackled and strong hands subdue Aziraphale from behind._

_He cries out, pleading for the demon he loves as the other angels drag him away. Crowley lashes out, crashing his heavy cuffs against the jaw of one of the three angels holding him. Aziraphale screams when Crowley is yanked back and thrown to the lawn, his captors now beating him mercilessly._

"Shhhhhh. Angel, Angel, I've got you." Aziraphale blinks awake. He's on his back, tangled in the bedsheets with Crowley draped across his chest. Those lovely serpentine eyes, blurry but full of devotion, watch Aziraphale and wait. The demon's fingers twist in his curls. "Just a nightmare Dove. We're fine."

"Let me hold you." Aziraphale realizes he's been crying outside the dream as well. He wipes the dampness from his cheeks and opens his arms in invitation. Crowley happily accepts.

"How far'd you get into it this time?" Crowley rest his chin on Aziraphale's sternum, his gaze set on the angel's face. He runs a hand up and down Aziraphale's side and slings his legs over top his husband's.

"You had just proposed. They were hurting you and dragging me away." Aziraphale tugs Crowley up onto him further and kisses him with a touch of desperation. "I thought they were killing you as they pulled us apart. They were so vicious in their attack."

"Nah, they needed to make a public example of me." Crowley swipes away his Angel's tears with his thumb. "What better way to force you to submit, than to watch me die, and then lie and make you think it was your fault?"

"I don't forgive them Crowley. I can't." Aziraphale holds firmly to Crowley's naked body, the demon now fully lain across the angel. "I behave civilly for the good of all life and humanity, but I hate them and I will always hate them."

It's not just hate, there is also fear. Aziraphale fears what Heaven almost did, what they could still do. But admitting to fear will make him seem weak, and Aziraphale is tired of being weak. Crowley has always been the one to carry them due to the angel's weaknesses in the past. Aziraphale refuses to allow that to remain their norm.

"I know." Crowley drops kisses along his husband's jaw. "You know I feel the same towards them, but for different reasons." His lips trail down Aziraphale's throat and over his shoulder. "I'm so proud of the way you hold yourself together Angel."

"I have you now, in every way. I don't want to give them any reason to take that from me." Aziraphale sighs at the sensation of Crowley's mouth, hot and soft, along his collar bone and the feel of the demon's dick pressing against his thigh. "We're safe now, right?"

"We're safe now." Crowley confirms, his breath ghosting over Aziraphale's heated skin.

"You're here and you won't go away?" The angel whimpers as Crowley's hard member slides along the lips of Aziraphale's wet, aching effort.

"I'm here and I'll always be with you." Crowley gasps. Aziraphale grabs his ass and wraps his legs around Crowley's thin hips.

“Make love to me, Crowley.” Aziraphale scratches his nails along the demon’s tight rump and slips one of his hands between them. Taking hold of Crowley’s hard cock, Aziraphale lines it up with his opening. “I need to feel just how real and here you are.”

“Whatever you want.” Crowley pushes into the wet heat, and both angel and demon moan at the sensation.

This isn’t hurried and rough, like in the lift. Crowley‘s motions are slow and loving, an act of worship. Golden eyes stare deeply into a kaleidoscope of green/blue. The redhead presses his chest to the blond’s, his long arms wrapping under Aziraphale’s and thin fingers winding from beneath to grasp the angel’s shoulders.

“I love you Aziraphale.” Crowley kisses him, his talented tongue sliding beyond Aziraphale’s lips to dance with the angel’s own.

Aziraphale gets lost in the sensation of being surrounded and entered by the being he loves most in all the universe. Crowley is in his mouth, and his pussy, the demons heated skin all around him. It is everything Aziraphale needs to ground him to the present.

“I love you too.” Aziraphale’s hands splay across his husband’s back, letting him revel in the feel of the muscles flexing and shifting as Crowley moves. “You’re perfect my darling. Thank you for choosing me.”

“Angel.” Crowley groans the nickname, his lips once again tracing Aziraphale’s throat. “Who else could I possibly want when someone like you exists? You’re the one who’s perfect.”

Crowley will never admit it, but Aziraphale knows he prefers this. Demon though he is, he’s also a hopeless romantic. Soft words and gentle touches unravel him like a spool of ribbon.

Crowley slithers in and out of Aziraphale, causing pleasure after orgasmic pleasure to fill his lover’s body. The angel loses track of time, as the sun begins to rise outside the sheer, rose tinted curtains.

Eventually Crowley comes, calling Aziraphale’s name in a desperate wail. They lay for several minutes longer, holding one another, sharing kisses and promises of safety and love. As the sweat on their skin begins to dry, Aziraphale reluctantly pulls himself from the bed.

“We have an hour and a half before the welcoming ceremonies.” Aziraphale gestures to the clock hanging above the bed. “And I’d like something to eat before-hand.”

“Whatever makes you happy Angel.” Crowley is spread out, his body satiated and beautiful. His features are soft, and full of love. “Can I assist you in the shower?”

Aziraphale offers his hand to help his husband from the tangled sheets. “Oh, my dear, I’d like that so very much.”

* * *

Thirty minutes later, the couple walk arm in arm along the boardwalk. Aziraphale’s fears are slowly ebbing into the back of his mind. It’s the same cycle every year. He becomes more and more worried in the week leading up to the event, until he is beside himself with fear. The entire time Crowley stays his rock, ever patient and gentle. The demon can’t vanish Aziraphale’s worries, but he helps to make the burden lighter. This, combined with the new, comfortable feel of Heaven, eventually results in Aziraphale remaining vigilant but permitting himself a modicum of enjoyment.

“What looks good to you?” Crowley raises an eyebrow above dark shades, and Aziraphale thinks him so very handsome. He’s dressed in black board-shorts, outlined in red along the waistband and hems. His top is a tight black T-shirt with the Bentley logo, surrounded in flames. His feet are bare. The scales he is never completely able to get rid of, working as a natural barrier against the hot concrete.

“Everything looks delightful, but for breakfast I think it best to stick with something sweet.” Aziraphale’s tone is light, but he holds Crowley‘s arm a bit firmer as the street begins to fill with other beings.

Aziraphale can sense the watchful eyes of the more couth and can’t avoid the direct stares of the uncouth. He should be accustomed to their celebrity status by now, but he’s not. The most troublesome thing about all those watching, is some of the gazes appear angry. At least they do to Aziraphale.

“Crepes it is.” Crowley chuckles, but then notices Aziraphale’s tension. “We’re fine, Dove. They look at us, like you look at famous authors on earth.” He presses his lips gently to Aziraphale’s temple. “And if it’s anything other than that, they’re most likely in awe of how stunning you are.”

“You charmer.” Aziraphale blushes, glancing down over himself. Dressed in a blue floral button up, covered in bright yellow flowers, tan board-shorts, and tartan sandals. Aziraphale can’t help but notice the bit of bulge around his middle causing him to doubt the sentiment.

“Only to you.” Crowley kisses him again and tugs Aziraphale towards **The Sweet Tooth**

The small eatery is known for some of the most delicious, sugary concoctions Heaven has to offer. Crowley releases Aziraphale’s arm long enough to lope ahead and hold open the establishment’s glass doors.

Unsurprisingly the place is packed. Crowley pushes his shades into his short, messy hair and looks about for a free table. They both notice it at the same time, against the far wall beside a window that looks out onto the ocean.

“Are you good with that one?” Crowley’s eyes search Aziraphale’s face.

“Yes dear, it’s perfect.”

Once settled at the table, a server quickly stops and takes their order, before rushing off to his next bit of business. Crowley reaches across the table and takes Aziraphale’s hand. “You alright?”

“I’m fine.” Aziraphale’s attention flits about the room before settling on Crowley. “I’m actually starting to relax a bit.”

“Good.” Crowley squeezes the palms he holds in his own. “It seems like you get comfortable at a quicker rate each year. Someday this might not make you nervous at all.”

“Maybe so.” Aziraphale gives his husband a timid smile which immediately drops as he glances over Crowley shoulder. “Heads up dear, Beelzebub is approaching.’

“Oh boy.” Crowley smirks. Releasing his hold on Aziraphale, he leans back in his chair.

“Crowley. Azzzzziraphale.” The small, terrifying demon buzzes. “Good to zze you.”

“Demon Prince. How are ya?” Crowley throws his head to the side in an attempt at nonchalance. Aziraphale worries it might be interpreted as disrespectful.

“Prince Beelzebub, the pleasure is all ours.” Aziraphale despises the niceties, especially when he thinks of how this particular demon sentenced Crowley to extinction two decades back. But in the spirit of building a better world, Aziraphale tolerates them. If Crowley can stomach being civil to Gabriel, Aziraphale can do the same with the Ruler of Hell.

“Thank you Prinzzzzipality.” They quirk their lips in an almost smile towards Aziraphale. Looking to Crowley they scowl. “Get bent zzzerpent.”

There doesn’t seem to be heat behind their words, which makes the buzzing so intriguing. Aziraphale doesn’t know Beelzebub well, but one thing everyone does know about them, is they only buzz their words when upset. “You seem bothered. Is there any way you need us to assist you?”

“No, juzzt think I’ve been zzztood up.” They bite, taking the seat to Aziraphale’s left and Crowley’s right.

“Oh! So, Dagon is here.” Aziraphale smiles sweetly at the server, who has appeared and is placing a concoction of sweet joy in front of the angel. “I thought she would be working.”

“I’m not with Dagon anymore.” The Prince eyes Aziraphale’s plate.

“When did this happen?” Crowley leans in. “And why?”

They curl their lip. “Let’zzz juzzt zzay, there’zzz a reazzon Dagon and Uriel decline to part wayzzz to take turnzzz in Paradizzze each year.”

“No.” Aziraphale may not completely trust Beelzebub, but at this moment he does feel a bit scandalized for them.

“Yeeeaup.” They jut their jaw to the side, and sneer at Crowley’s plate. “Angel’zzz food cake? Really?”

Crowley waggles his eyebrows. “I like a certain type in my mouth.”

“I fucking hate you.” Beelzebub rolls their eyes, and gestures to Aziraphale. “But I get it, he’zz apparently the only one of hizz lot that’zz not a two fazzed azzzhole.” They glance at their watch. “I need to go. I zzzpeak firzzt thizzz year. You’ve got thirty minutezz, don’t be late.”

Aziraphale looks down at his plate and smiles. “Who do you suppose stood them up?”

“Dunno.” Crowley bites his lip. There’s a gleam in the demon’s eyes. “But it makes for an interesting mystery.”

“I hardly think this is a mystery, darling.” Aziraphale places a morsel of thin pastry into his mouth and hums with delight. Chewing thoroughly, he swallows and dabs the corners of his mouth with a paper napkin. “It will be obvious before the end of the day.”

“Killjoy.” Crowley pouts. “Could’ve let me have a little fun.”

“Oh, it is fun, in a juicy gossip sort of way.” Aziraphale attempts to appease his demon. Thankfully it seems to work.

“You’re an adorable bastard, you know that?” Crowley lifts his cup of coffee to his lips and turns to face out the window.

“Well aware. A handsome devil has referred to me as both on multiple occasions.” Aziraphale teases back, feeling truly relaxed for the moment. That is until he notices the way his husband’s face falls. “Crowley? What?”

“Something’s wrong.”

Aziraphale turns to look in the same direction as Crowley. Angels and demons are rushing to and circling about a small area along the beach. The other diners have risen from their chairs to look as well. Crowley signals for the server and settles their tab.

Aziraphale takes hold of Crowley’s wrist, every worst-case scenario playing out in his mind. “We need to go home.”

“We can’t desert the humans. They need us to get back.” Crowley hurries them from the restaurant and again towards the boardwalk. “Stay close to me, it looks serious.”

The nearer they get to the throng, the louder it all becomes. Someone is yelling from the front, others are crying and clinging to one another, and yet others are yelling slurs that haven’t been said out loud towards a demon in years. Aziraphale wraps an arm around Crowley‘s waist as the duo push their way to the front.

The moment they emerge from the wall of jostling bodies, Aziraphale can’t help but gasp. Before him lay the mutilated body and essence of what was once an angel. The poor creature has been slit pelvis to sternum, the chest cavity cracked open, leaving all of his organs on display. Another angel is crouched beside him, her thin face covered in tears. She points to Beelzebub who stands only a few feet away, Gabriel wide-eyed and confused beside them.

“Your side did this!” She cries, pushing herself from the ground. “Mastiel and I always knew this alliance was dangerous! That no good can exist in demons!”

Aziraphale tightens his grip on Crowley, as Gabriel moves closer to the distraught angel. “Muriel, please. Obviously, _someone_ among us is evil, but I assure you even if our culprit is a demon, it doesn’t mean the whole group is corrupt. We found out years ago they are no different from us.”

The crowd breaks into murmurs and chatter. Most of the voices agreeing with Gabriel, but more than Aziraphale would like are vocalizing agreement with Muriel.

Gabriel catches sight of Aziraphale and Crowley in the crowd and waves his hand gesturing them to come near. The archangel then leans to the side and whispers something to Beelzebub, who nods.

“Come on.” Crowley tugs against Aziraphale’s hold. As they pass the broken angel’s body on their path to Gabriel and Beelzebub, Aziraphale spies the infernal blade mere inches from the corpse, covered in blood.

“My celestial and infernal brethren.” Gabriel holds his hands palm out in a gesture of surrender. “Please try to keep a calm head about this. I ask that everyone please go to your rooms and stay there until we can work this all out.”

“I say we work it out here” Muriel’s electric blue eyes bore maliciously into Crowley, her hands sparking with celestial power. “I say this is a declaration of war, and I’m ready for a fight.”

“No!” Aziraphale steps in front of Crowley, spreading his wings. “No, it is not! There is an disturbed individual among us and that’s who needs dealt with. You will not threaten my husband who is innocent in all this.”

“Thank you Aziraphale.” Gabriel pats him on the shoulder and steps around him to again take center stage. “As I said before, please take safety in your rooms. Do not open your doors for anyone. We will put an announcement on your in-room television once we know it is safe to come out.”

The crowd begins to disperse, although not without the audible grumbling of the more prejudiced. Muriel refuses to go until the arrival of Michael and Sandalphon, who collect her husband’s body and take it away.

“Meet in my suite in two hours.” Gabriel addresses Beelzebub, Crowley and Aziraphale. The archangel rubs his hands down his face, then waves an index finger towards Crowley. “I’ll need you to round up Adam and the rest of your people. We need to solve this as soon as possible. This is the sort of thing to throw us right back where we were before, and none of us want that.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale and Crowley get a long-awaited announcement, and things go a bit off kilter.

Crowley isn’t nervous, he’s fucking terrified, but there’s no way in Heaven he’s going to let Aziraphale know this. His angel worries enough as it is, so Crowley needs to keep a level head to avoid stressing his husband more. Besides, maybe he can even convince himself that he has this under control.

Aziraphale hasn’t retracted his wings back into the ether. He’s using them as a shield, left wing wound around Crowley. The angel holding the demon tightly to his side, as they maneuver through the crowd on the way to their room.

“Aziraphale, please Dove, put your wings away.” Crowley presses his splayed hands against the soft down blocking his view. “If someone decides to run upon you, I won’t be able to see them coming.”

“I’m not worried about someone running up on me.” Aziraphale swats Crowley’s hands away from his feathers. “Didn’t you hear the terrible things being whispered about you on the beach?”

Crowley did, but his safety isn’t what he’s thinking about. Just as much hate is being aimed at Aziraphale. Crowley is more concerned with the words thrown from the faceless crowd as weapons against an angel whose only crime has been to love him.

“Angel, they’re just afraid.” Crowley tries to reason with his beautiful, protective, gift of a spouse. “Muriel had every right to overreact. Imagine if it had been me murdered on that beach. Would you have behaved any different?”

“Don’t say things like that.” Aziraphale shivers. “I wouldn’t have gone on blaming demons.”

“No, you would’ve accused all of Heaven, without a single shred of evidence.” Crowley hooks his index finger to Aziraphale’s chin and turns the angel’s head to face him. “Besides, it wasn’t a demon murdered, it was an angel. Which means you’re in more danger right now than I am. Please, Aziraphale put away your wings. You’re making a scene.”

Aziraphale tightens his jaw and gives Crowley a look the demon has seen many times. It’s the same look the angel had given him at the Bastille before miracling his clothes changed. The look that says _I know you’re right, but I’m not going to say you’re right. So I’ll do the thing you’re right about, but I’m going to be mildly pissy about it._

Aziraphale begrudgingly tucks his wings away, but his hold on Crowley’s waist doesn’t lessen. Now able to see his surroundings, Crowley knows that they are only a few yards from the hotel’s entrance. He also becomes very aware of the cause of Aziraphale’s tension.

Heaven, in all their ridiculous glory, had never considered a plan for emergency situations. If they had, they might have built more than one hotel, or at least given the hotel they have more than one entrance, one guest lift, one service lift and one stairwell. Instead, all of Heaven, Hell and a few citizens of earth are crammed into one large, unorganized bunch. The pack slowly pushing its way to the glass doors six at a time. Some trying to get into the lifts while others pile into the stairwell.

“Crowley.” Aziraphale whimpers.

“What Angel?”

“The killer is most likely in this crowd at this very moment.”

“They are, but don’t worry. I won’t let them touch either of us.” Crowley hates making promises he may not be able to keep, but he needs Aziraphale to stay calm.

It doesn’t help that his own anxiety is spiking. The closer they get to the doors, the more they become closed in by a wall of bodies. Aziraphale begins breathing much too quickly and Crowley wishes there was some way to extract him from their current surroundings. Only he can’t. They are now at least 50 bodies deep on all sides, except the line in front of them to the door, which is around 20 human shaped beings strong. It will be easier to keep on their current trajectory at this point.

“It would be nice if we could apparate.” Crowley mumbles near Aziraphale’s ear, hoping the reference will lighten his Angel’s mood.

“I’m assuming you’ve watched the movies rather than actually have read the books?” Aziraphale, although frightened and clinging to his husband, takes the distraction Crowley is offering and runs with it.

“Both.” Crowley surrounds Aziraphale with his arms as the throng jostles forward. Steel blue eye shimmer up at him, and all of Crowley’s fears are forgotten for a few seconds. Instead, he wonders how a debased, Hell-thing like himself ever won the favor of Heaven’s greatest beauty.

“Both? But you don’t like to read. You said it hurts your eyes.” Aziraphale makes a whining noise and presses his face to Crowley‘s chest, as another angel slams against them. The interloper sneers at the both of them before pushing off into the sea of angels and demons. Crowley catches the words ‘demon fucker’ and ‘filth’ as the angry asshole disappears in the crowd.

“Audiobooks, Dove.” Crowley fights the urge to follow the other angel, and instead continues to focus on making Aziraphale feel safe.

“Not my thing personally, audiobooks.” The blond takes a deep breath, his head now nestled against Crowley’s shoulder. “You know, I had a discussion with the Them close to 15 years ago about the same subject.”

“Do tell.” Crowley leaves a kiss atop soft curls. _Just keep talking Love. We’re almost there._

“Well.” Aziraphale snaps to attention, startled by shouting rising from somewhere behind him. “It seems humans think angels and demons have all sorts of fancy powers up our sleeves.”

“The ability to apparate is one, I’m guessing.” Crowley eases Aziraphale’s head back down to his shoulder.

“Yes, quite.” Aziraphale’s tone stays light, but Crowley can feel the way his husband’s fingers clench in the fabric of his t-shirt. “I explained we have the ability to heal, restore life to small animals, make minor repairs to things or even create tiny uncomplicated objects. However, due to our corporeal forms, we are restricted to move third dimensionally like a human. They seemed very disappointed.”

“Doubt they would have been if you’d explained just how far our range of movement is third dimensionally.” Crowley thinks back to asking an angel to run away to the stars, which would have been taxing but not impossible. They would’ve required some sort of breathing apparatus as their bodies do need oxygen to thrive, but Crowley could’ve come up with that somehow.

“You would’ve left the Bentley for me?” Aziraphale’s breath ghosts across Crowley’s chin. Looking down, the demon realizes the angel is gazing up at him. Aziraphale’s mind has apparently wandered to the same scenario as Crowley’s.

_Well, you know what they say about great minds._ “In a heartbeat, Angel. Nothing in this universe has ever meant so much to me as you.”

“Don’t let her hear you say that. You’re finally able to leave your Velvet Underground CD’s in the car without her changing them to the Best of Queen.” Aziraphale giggles, and it’s genuine. They are only five bodies from the door.

“She already knows you have her beat and she accepts her place.” Crowley states absentmindedly, as it dawns on him the cramped chaos will be worse inside the building. “At this rate, we won’t make it to Gabriel‘s room by the two hour mark.“

“He really needs to have some system of crowd control and an investigative team larger than just Sandalphon and Michael.” The angel gasps. “This is dangerous even without all the animosity brewing.”

* * *

Crowley thanks God and Satan both, when nearly two and a half hours later they are standing safely, rapping at Gabriel’s door. The archangel’s suite takes up the entire top floor of the 60 story structure. They had to fight their way to the private lift from the 59th to 60th floor, but now they have finally escaped the madness below.

Gabriel cracks the door and seeing it’s them, opens it just wide enough for Aziraphale and Crowley to slip inside.

“Sorry.” Crowley starts, as the duo steps into the foyer. Gabriel‘s room is huge, nearly twice the size of Crowley’s flat back home. From where he stands, Crowley can only make out a fourth of the living space. The demon can’t see why Gabriel could make his own personal suite so nice but couldn’t make the hotel more accessible to safely navigate in situations like the one occurring below. “We weren’t able to track down the antichrist and his humans. It took us this entire time just to get ourselves here.”

“How did you get up here so fast?” Aziraphale aims his index finger at his former boss.

“Not to sound arrogant, but because I’m me.” Gabriel most certainly does sound arrogant, at least in Crowley‘s opinion. “And, because of his status, Adam and the rest of your people have made it as well.”

“If it’s that easy, why didn’t you wait and walk with us?” Aziraphale’s eyes flash. “We’re important too, why didn’t they move for us? Why haven’t Michael and Sandalphon made it yet? It’s a madhouse out there! Yelling, crowds crushing in on one another. Someone is going to get hurt!”

Aziraphale’s lecture continues as the three-man shaped beings cross Gabriel’s lavish sitting room and step into a rather opulent library/study.

“The horrible looks we received, the malicious words tossed in Crowley’s direction!” Aziraphale stops mid-tirade, his index finger still out, ready to continue its punctuation of disapproval. Blue eyes look about wildly. “And why in God’s name do you have a library?! You don’t even read?!“

At least 20 monstrous bookshelves line floor to ceiling on the right side of the room. Directly ahead is an 80 inch flatscreen television. It’s faced by a white leather, horse-shoe shaped sofa with enough room to seat 15. It loops around a glass coffee table that is lined in gold, with golden legs for support. The carpet throughout is a blinding white and soft underfoot.

To the left side of the room are a small bar and refrigerator in the corner closest to the television. To the left of the bar is another doorway leading further into this maze of a living space.

“I’ve been reading a little over the past 18 years” Gabriel answers the last question as if it were the only one asked. Honestly Crowley can’t blame him, Aziraphale threw a lot out there all at once.

The archangel continues, looking honestly hurt. “Also eat and drink as well. Oh! And I love old reruns of American television!” The hurt fades and he claps his hands, a child-like smile gracing his face. “It was God’s suggestion after all to be more like the humans.”

Aziraphale eyes the bookshelves greedily, while holding his air of indignant anger. He inhales deeply and puffs his cheeks on the exhale, resulting in a quick poof noise. “Well, you really must look into establishing some sort of peace keeping force.”

“You’re absolutely right.” Gabriel runs fingers through his thick dark hair. “That is definitely something I need to talk over with Michael when she and Sandalphon arrive.”

“That would be her area of expertise, although have you considered asking Beelzebub as well?” Crowley nods towards the Prince of Hell who has just decided to appear from somewhere within the shelves of books. “Their skills are equal, if not superior to Michael’s own.”

“I would be honored to work with them on such matters.” Gabriel’s eyes light up at the sight of the Demon Prince and he seems to drift off somewhere in his mind. After an embarrassingly long pause, Crowley clears his throat loudly, snapping the big lug back to reality.

“Where was I?” The archangel blushes, violet eyes looking everywhere but Beelzebub now. “Oh yes. Getting everyone assigned to a job most beneficial to our cause.” He clasps Aziraphale’s biceps. “You, Isla, Pepper, Michael and Wensleydale will be research and forensics. You’ll need some knowledge of how to properly handle and examine the body for clues once it arrives.”

He releases Aziraphale and lays his hands palms down on Crowley’s shoulders. “You, I, Hastur, Sandalphon, Beelzebub, Brian, and Adam will be in charge of the footwork, peacekeeping, and the actual getting out there putting ourselves in danger aspect of this.”

Moving from Crowley, he looks among his three guests excitedly. “It’s like this American cop show I’ve been watching. I’ll be the Gibbs!”

The corners of Aziraphale’s mouth turns down in an adorable frown, his blue eyes squinting in confused distress. “What?”

“You’re definitely not a Gibbs mate.” Crowley rubs his forehead, hoping to relieve some of the tension forming. “But I like the plan.”

“I don’t.” Aziraphale cuts in, pushing himself in front of Crowley. “Crowley will not be out there in harm’s way. Especially not with you alone.”

“He just said I’ll be with them, as will Michael and Pepper.” Beelzebub pushes away from the bookshelves to stand a bit closer to the group.

“Please forgive me, as I have spent the last 18 years controlling my tongue on the matter.” Aziraphale’s face grows a deep red. “But only two of the six beings you’ve listed haven’t at one point in time tried to murder my husband. So, either I go with him, or he stays here with me.”

“We need him out there.” Gabriel looks a bit bewildered and a lot ashamed. “I know it’s been silly of me to assume there is no more mistrust between you and myself, and I’m so very sorry for my part in what almost happened.” Gabriel seems so sincere, and Crowley, sort of, feels sorry for the wanker. “But Crowley is the most street-smart and sharpest on his feet out of the bunch of us, and the only one of us immune to holy water and hellfire.”

Aziraphale flusters. Crowley knows this sort of thing upsets him, but he’s never seen his angel lash out quite so emotionally before.

“Well then, I’m going to be out there with you.” The principality sniffles, taking Crowley‘s hand and gripping it tight. “By Crowley’s side the entire time.”

“I don’t think that’s wise.” Gabriel shakes his head, tilting it slightly to the right and glancing down to Aziraphale’s middle. “Not in your condition.” He looks to Crowley for back up. “I’m sure you would want to keep them safe.”

Crowley’s breath catches. Gabriel, God’s messenger, who can sense pregnancies at conception, who announced to Miriam the coming of Yeshua.....

“Oh, my fucking Satan, we did it.” Crowley blurts before thinking. “How far along?”

“Around 6 to 8 weeks.” Gabriel reaches towards Aziraphale’s stomach, then seems to think better of it and pulls back. “Was this planned?”

“Yes.” Aziraphale swallows audibly, the shock of the announcement dissipating his former rage. “We’ve been trying for just over a year. We were starting to lose hope.”

“We planned on seeing a celestial clinician while here.” Crowley feels as if his heart might burst. He engulfs Aziraphale in his arms, curly fluff tickling under Crowley’s chin. Swaying their bodies back-and-forth, Crowley holds his husband close. “There aren’t a lot of helpful options for our kind on earth.”

“Looks like you didn’t need any.” Gabriel’s smile is broad and Crowley believes it’s sincerity. “I’m the top sought after clinician in this field due to my history. I could do a full check up in a bit, and would be privileged if you would allow me to be your personal physician throughout the entire process.“

“Ummm.” Aziraphale squirms. “I’d like for Crowley and I to discuss this when we have time to ourselves before I reply.”

“Yeah, I get it.” Gabriel steps away from the couple, just as a knock sounds at the door. “Excuse me.”

“I’ll be back darling.” Aziraphale kisses Crowley. “Can you direct me to the restroom?”

“Of course.” Gabriel undoes the deadbolt and points to the door beside the bar. “Through there, second door on the left.”

Aziraphale heads through the pathway indicated while Gabriel allows Michael and Sandalphon in with the gurney. On their heels is Hastur.

“We had to wait for the crowd to die down before even considering bringing it inside.” Michael puffs, clearly out of breath. “On top of that, we had the wife to contend with. She refused to leave us alone, until we promised no demons would be near Mastiel’s corpse.” She points behind her at Hastur.

“You lied?” Beelzebub chuckles. They bite their lip and look Michael over appreciatively. “To a grieving widow?”

“No.” Michael turns to Gabriel. “Where do you want us to set up?”

“That way.” Gabriel points to the same door in which Aziraphale has just gone. “Third door on your right.”

“We got this.” Sandalphon tells Michael. “You finish your conversation.” He gestures for Hastur to follow him, before turning to Gabriel. “It’s going to get bad if we can’t calm the wife.”

“Thank you both.” Michael tells Sandalphon and Hastur and then turns again to Gabriel. “She demands to speak with you directly, or else threatens to cause a revolt.”

“Fine, I’ll handle it.” Gabriel’s shoulders slouch. “What room is she in?”

“1114.”

“I’ll head there now.” Gabriel glances to Crowley. “It will be best not to let everyone know of your good news. Could be dangerous.”

“Agreed.” Crowley waves to Gabriel as he leaves.

“What good news?” Michael only just gets the words out as a scream stabs the air and Crowley’s heart.

“Aziraphale!” Crowley shoves past Michael, her and Beelzebub close behind him as they dash into the hall.

The demon slams his skinny form against the thin wood of the bathroom door. “Aziraphale! Angel! Let me in!”

The silver knob jiggles in his hand, and from the other side of the door his Angel yells back. “I can’t! Oh! Crowley, I can’t get it to open!” He’s clearly crying as he calls out. “It’s in here Crowley! It’s going to take me!”

“Fuck!” Crowley turns to the crowd surrounding him, two demons and two angels standing in confused, stunned silence. “Get your fucking wits about you and help me break down this Satan blessed door!”

This seems to snap them out of their stupor, all nodding in unison as Crowley joins them. The wood is thin, five bodies at once should bring it down.

“Step back from the door angel.” Crowley shouts, just as he hears Aziraphale yelp, a thud, and then silence.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We see Aziraphale’s side of what happened last chapter, followed by a flashback to the second war, and then a tender moment before the next bit of bad news.

**Several Minutes Earlier**

“Oh, my fucking Satan, we did it.” Crowley gasps beside him. The demon squeezes his hand and Aziraphale’s anger melts into oblivion at the news. They wanted this, oh God how they wanted this, but this might be the worst possible time for it to happen. “How far along?”

“Around 6 to 8 weeks.” Aziraphale places his free hand over his middle, and turns ever so slightly to Crowley when he notices Gabriel reaching for his stomach. Crowley, in all his enthusiasm, doesn’t seem to register the movement, but Gabriel does and pulls away. “Was this planned?”

“Yes.” Aziraphale’s mouth has gone dry. He fights to swallow, resulting in a rather embarrassing gulping noise. This is one of the greatest moments of his life, and it’s being overshadowed by danger and death. “We’ve been trying for just over a year. We were starting to lose hope.”

“We planned on seeing a clinician while here.” Crowley wraps himself around his husband, tucking the angel’s head beneath his chin. He begins to sway the two of them side to side and for a moment Aziraphale feels content. “There aren’t a lot of helpful options for our kind on earth.”

_We did it_. Aziraphale breaths in his husband’s scent and soaks up the demon’s body heat. _We’ll be okay. We’ll get through this and we’ll have a family._

Gabriel is talking and Aziraphale is only half listening, instead daydreaming of a child with golden eyes or blue? Curly red or platinum hair? Will they be angular, fast and sharp as they grow or more round and robust? Witty and sarcastic or a fretful over-thinker? Whoever they are, they’ll be perfect.

Aziraphale is brought back from his happy musings as Gabriel offers. “I could do a full check up in a bit and would be privileged if you would allow me to be your personal physician throughout the entire process.”

“Ummmmm.” _Your murderous hands will go nowhere near this child!_ Aziraphale wiggles closer to Crowley’s chest. “I’d like for Crowley and I to discuss this when we have time to ourselves, before I reply.”

“Yeah, I get it.”

Aziraphale lifts his head as a knock sounds at the door and Gabriel excuses himself. Too much is happening all around him, and the addition of more of their former coworkers will only result in Aziraphale feeling more anxious. He needs several minutes alone to collect his thoughts and calm his frayed nerves.

“I’ll be back darling.” Aziraphale presses a gentle kiss to his husband‘s lips before asking Gabriel. “Can you direct me to the restroom?”

“Of course.” Gabriel flicks the deadbolt and points to the door opposite the library. “Through there, second door on the left.”

The angel gives his demon a final squeeze and goes off in the direction indicated. He hears the ruckus and the beginning of Michael’s explaination as he closes the hallway door behind him

The space ahead of him goes on an unbelievable distance, low lit and lined in wooden doors on both sides. Each door has a strange purple tint and a shiny silver knob. For what they lack in sturdiness, they make up for in beauty. Every one of them shimmering in the soft lighting, the texture of the wood changing from a deep purple all through the color’s spectrum to a light lilac based on where the observer is standing.

Entering the door second to the left, Aziraphale finds himself in quite ostentatious surroundings. As it is with the rest of the suite, the floor is covered in a bright, white, plush carpet. The walls and ceiling are large glass windows overlooking the resort and sea.

He notices a dark tint to the glass and is relieved to find it’s a one-way mirror. He would hate if it wasn’t and someone accidentally got a peek at him, or God forbid, Gabriel if they happen to look up at the wrong moment.

An extravagantly large Jacuzzi tub takes up the entire right side of the room, Aziraphale isn’t sure if it’s gold plated, or actually made of gold, but he feels pretty safe guessing it’s the latter. A towel rack covers a portion of the wall at the foot of the tub, so as not to block the oceanic view, and it is filled with dark purple, plush towels and flannels.

In the center of the left wall is a toilet, nothing fancy about it just your standard issue. As it has become common for all angels and demons to live and behave the human way, their food waste must go somewhere. Which also means, practically everyone has put on an effort if for nothing more than this reason.

In the center of the wall ahead of where Aziraphale stands, is a porcelain, white sink perched at navel level, with gold faucets, knobs and U-pipes running underneath and into the wall. Directly above it, a mirror, a good 2 meters in length, and reaching as high as the ceiling.

Aziraphale locks the door behind him and rolls his eyes. Gabriel seriously went from “Angels should never partake in earthly pleasures” to dwarfing Aziraphale and Crowley combined when it comes to material wants and hedonism.

Although loud to the visual senses, the room is quiet and wide which is exactly what Aziraphale is seeking. His entire morning, since he and Crowley had left their hotel room, has been loud, chaotic and terribly claustrophobic. The angel just needs a few quiet, open spaced minutes to think.

They’re going to be fathers, a being is forming within him who will be both himself and his demon. Aziraphale and Crowley, two halves of the same whole, separated by the cosmos and former sides, now growing slowly into a creature that will be their essences combined. The revelation is lovely, exciting, and absolutely perfect, if it wasn’t for the risk of destruction hovering over them all.

Aziraphale decides to collect himself and get back out there to Crowley. They need to be together as much as possible, now more than ever. Pushing his back away from the shimmering door, the angel is startled by a loud thumping beyond the barrier. Muffled through the doorway he hears a guttural growl, and two voices arguing.

“Be more careful, if you would please.” _Sandalphon_. Aziraphale remembers this specific angry tone from decades ago. “This may not be important to you, demon, but we need this body in the condition in which it was found.”

“Shut it, wank wings.” _Hastur too, well that’s unexpected_. “I care, we’re all on the same team now, right?”

“I’ve come to trust you but that doesn’t mean I don’t find you a bit too destructive at times.” Sandalphon’s voices fade as the duo travel further down the hallway and disappear completely with the click of a door closing.

“Hastur’s and Sandalphon are here.” Aziraphale is more than a little surprised. It’s not been uncommon since the Second War to find the the archangels and high-ranking Lords and Dukes working together, but Hastur and Sandalphon have been a tough eggs to crack. In all these years, this particular Duke and archangel seem the least likely to want to assist in any sort of planning, sticking predominately together and sneering at anyone who attempted to approach them in a friendly conversation.

The principality’s skin begins to flush, a pins and needles sensation spreading across his flesh. When the disconnected, lightheadedness kicks in, he realizes he is on the verge of a panic attack. Thankfully he recognizes it for what it is and knows he can usually muscle through. Normally he has Crowley to help him at these times, but the poor dear has been given a happy bit of good news and Aziraphale would be remiss if he were to take that joy from him right now.

Stumbling to the flashy sink, Aziraphale plugs the drain and runs the cold water. Waiting a tic for the basin to fill before shutting it off, he crosses the room to grab one of the towels.

“These are nice.” He mutters, looking at the soft fabric and sliding his fingers across the opulent texture. The feeling helps to ground him, but only for a moment. Lifting his gaze again to the large mirror Aziraphale screams.

Directly behind him in the reflection is a hooded figure. At first, he thinks it might be Death, coming to claim him or the child in his womb. Darting away from the creature, the angel spins to face it, only to find nothing behind him.

From some distance away he hears Crowley yell his name. He drops the towel and rushes to the bathroom door.

It won’t open.

Looking into the mirror, the figure is still there. Not Death, the robes aren’t nearly as dark. Rather than black as night, the tone is more deep brown and the fabric is heavier, almost resembling those of a monastery monk. The creature lifts its head only enough for Aziraphale to catch the side of a dark chin and strong jawline. It moves away from the corner beside the towel rack and begins to approach him.

The angel jumps when something with force crashes into the door behind him, followed by Crowley shouting. “Aziraphale!” Angel! Let me in!”

The blond swings his head to stare at the figure slowly approaching his reflection, all the while twisting the knob in his hand to no avail. “I can’t! Oh! Crowley, I can’t get it to open!”

He’s forcefully yanked from the door when the dark hooded thing presses one hand to his reflection’s throat and the other around his torso, pinning his arms to his side. His actual body feels the effects of the creature’s touch. He screams in terror as he’s pulled towards the mirror by ghostly hands.

“It’s in here Crowley! It’s going to take me!” Aziraphale fights, kicking against the unseen force holding his arms and squirms as much as possible to break free.

He hears Crowley cursing and yelling instructions to others.

Aziraphale’s body is lifted onto the sink, and he’s well aware that this creature intends to pull him inside the mirror. Hooking his foot around the exposed, golden U-shaped pipe underneath, he uses his leg muscles to try and pull himself back to safety and out of the arms of this strange specter. Instead, he breaks the pipe and the supports from the wall, causing the sink to fall to the floor and a large spray of water to soak him and the mirror behind him.

He can vaguely make out Crowley shout something about the door and then an otherworldly shriek from his attacker. The sound causes Aziraphale to yelp in pain just as he is dropped unceremoniously to the floor, his temple making contact with the hard porcelain of the fallen sink.

* * *

_Aziraphale holds his head high as they escort him through the streets of London. It’s been months maybe even a year since that beautiful day in the park. Today it is raining and dreary, not at all like the last time he had seen his fiancé, kneeling in the grass and sliding the beautiful obsidian ring on this finger._

_He’s heard whispers of Crowley‘s name in Heaven’s halls. Aziraphale’s ‘instructors’ speaking conspiratorially in corners during his reprogramming seminars. Angels in passing as his guards had walked him to and from his ‘classes’ and his locked ‘room’._

_The classes and seminars were actually an attempt at psychological brainwashing. Heaven’s goal, use fear and guilt to convince the principality his feelings of individuality and love are wrong. Gabriel seemed convinced this sort of forced mind control was original, but really it was no different from those horrible conversion camps, shitty human parents had sent their children to on earth. And offer the same excuse of “this is God’s will.”_

_Gabriel was becoming more and more upset as time passed. Aziraphale had always been so easy to control and manipulate. The archangel could not seem to grasp why now he refuses to bend, to betray Crowley and won’t willingly assimilate back into the flock._

_He had been a bit surprised this morning when it was Uriel and Michael at his cell door instead of his usual escorts. Even more surprised when Michael had told him “Come with us, we’re taking you to Crowley.”_

_Aziraphale doesn’t fight the hope that has his heart fluttering, but with it is grief for the world he now sees around him. As they enter Soho, the life of the area he once called home is gone. Buildings lay in ruins and the streets are empty of human beings. Although ahead he can see a large crowd of angelic beings gathered directly in front of what was once his bookshop, it too destroyed._

_A large platform has been erected in the street and every eye is turned to face it. What little hope Aziraphale has felt since that morning is swallowed up in his now rising despair._

_Standing proudly on this stage are Gabriel and Sandalphon. On his knees beside them, arms and head locked firmly into the stocks of a guillotine is Crowley. Aziraphale’s poor demon has been beaten until his entire face is just one large purple bruise. Blood runs over his snake tattoo from a gash on his head and his naked torso fares no better than his lovely face. Above him, glinting as the flames around its edges flicker, undying even in the rain, is a guillotine blade, created from celestial steel and lit with holy flame._

_“No!” Aziraphale screams, pulling away from his escorts and bounding onto the platform. “You can’t do this! I submit! I submit! Just let him live!”_

_“Angel?” Crowley lifts his head, the name spoken like a prayer over dry, bleeding lips. “You’re okay.”_

_The demon’s voice is raspy and broken. His throat sounds dry, and the relief apparent in his voice at Aziraphale’s safety brings the Angel to tears._

_Aziraphale drops to his knees in front of his beloved, his soulmate, his very reason for living and kisses him ever so gently on his split lips. He cups his hands on each side of Crowley’s face, ignoring the blood running over his fingertips._

_“Aziraphale, Principality and former Guardian of the Eastern Gate.” Gabriel announces loudly for all the crowd to hear. “This is your punishment for defying Heaven and going against Her Great Plan. You’ve committed the sin of loving a demon and for that reason, the demon who has caused your corruption must be destroyed.”_

_“I’m sorry Angel.” Crowley weeps and turns his head to kiss the heel of Aziraphale’s palm._

_“Don’t you be sorry.” Aziraphale kisses him again and hates the metallic taste that lingers on his tongue. “I’m sorry that my love has brought you such grief.”_

_“You’re worth it, Aziraphale.” Crowley rests his forehead against that of the being he’s loved for millennia. “You’ve been worth all of this and so much more.”_

_“Please!” Aziraphale turns to face Gabriel, his tears unbidden, cascading down his face. “Please let him go, and I’ll be good and obedient! I swear!”_

_“Your oaths mean nothing demon fucker.” Sandalphon sneers._

_“This demon’s destruction has ultimately come by your hand Aziraphale.” Gabriel unties the rope holding the blade aloft. “Remember that as you live eternity without him.”_

_“No!” Aziraphale screams and closes his eyes as Gabriel releases the rope. He wails in agony listening to the shing of the metal slice the air and presses his face closer to Crowley’s when the sound abruptly stops._

_“Aziraphale?”_

_The principality opens his eyes to two beautiful golden orbs, looking at him confused and still very much alive. “Crowley?”_

_The blade has halted centimeters from the top of the stocks, hovering in mid air without anything physically holding it back. Both he and Crowley are able to feel the heat of the licking flames, before the fire goes out and the blade vanishes._

_“This nonsense ends now!” Echoes a voice from behind him, strong but not that of a fully grown adult. Pulling his gaze from Crowley, Aziraphale looks back toward the crowd. At the front of the massive audience stands a 13-year-old Adam Young, flanked by both God and Satan. “You and Beelzebub have been guessing and getting all of this wrong for too long. It’s time to talk.”_

Aziraphale doesn’t open his eyes right away as he feels himself regaining consciousness. He can hear Crowley speaking with someone in the room.

“I’ve done the best I can with what powers I still have.” Crowley is near and the poor darling sounds so worried. “I can’t heal like I could before the Fall, but I’ve done my very best with what powers I have in fallen form.”

“The baby is fine, if that eases any of your concerns.” Gabriel. He’s further from the bed than Crowley. “I am sorry for all the bad blood between us. I was jealous of you, ya know? Back when we both were archangels. I envied you because I wanted to be you.”

“Hell of a work rivalry.” Crowley scoffs. After a short pause. “Why did you try to kill Aziraphale though? Don’t tell me you had a thing for him.”

“God no.” Gabriel sounds disgusted and then immediately apologetic. “Don’t look at me like that. No offense, but he’s definitely not my type. I was just angry I didn’t get my way.”

“Seriously?” Crowley sounds incredulous.

“What can I say? I used to be a massive dick.” Gabriel lets out a nervous chuckle. “Now I’m just a tiny dick.” There’s a long moment of silence and then. “Are we cool?”

“You swear to never attempt to kill Aziraphale in the future?”

“I swear.” Gabriel sounds solemn and even Aziraphale almost believes him.

“Then we’re cool.”

“Thank you, I’ll leave you two alone then.” And with that, Aziraphale hears Gabriel leave the room.

“So you’re friends with him now are you?” Aziraphale grimaces, slowly opening his eyes to the low lit room.

“Aziraphale, Dove, how are you feeling?” The demon keeps his tone soft and hushed as he crawls onto the bed beside his husband.

“Like shit.” Aziraphale groans, rolling onto his side to face Crowley. “Now answer my question.”

“I don’t completely trust him right now.” Crowley slides his fingers through Aziraphale’s hair. “Don’t completely trust anyone but you. And I’d most definitely never trust him alone with you. But if I can’t show forgiveness for the things that have been done to me, then how would I be any different from how Heaven used to treat us Fallen?” He kisses Aziraphale and lets his hand drift down to the angel’s soft belly. “The answer is, I wouldn’t be.”

“You’re a better being than I’ll ever be.” Aziraphale places a hand over the slender one on his stomach. “I hope they’re more like you than me.”

“Shush now.” Crowley watches the spot their hands share. “You’re perfect, and no one, not even you, is allowed to say otherwise.”

After several more moments of Crowley staring at Aziraphale’s middle intently, sliding his hand over the flesh lovingly, the demon raises his eyes to meet the angel’s. “What happened? When I finally got in, you were alone and unconscious.” His voice cracks, and Crowley looks like he may cry. “Head busted against the broken sink on the floor.”

Aziraphale tells him everything, starting with his feelings at the reveal of the pregnancy, Hastur and Sandalphon’s words with one another in the hall, his strange attacker, and finishing with the moment he was knocked out.

Crowley pushes himself from the bed and immediately goes to the tall floor length mirror on the wall behind Aziraphale. Taking one of the sheets from the bed, he covers the glass and carries it through the door and out into the hallway.

“Can’t be too careful.” Crowley raises his eyebrows and, tilting his head, re-enters the room. Just as he’s about to close the door behind him and return to his angel’s side, a small hand catches it, shoving it back open. Crowley spins on the intruder, coming face-to-face with Isla.

“Hurry.” The human says, out of breath and panicked. “Into the sitting room. There’s another body.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley and Aziraphale have a small tiff. They help a grieving spouse, and some mushfake weapons are made.

"Tell Gabriel I'll be there shortly." Crowley grips the side of the door in an attempt to hold himself steady. Aziraphale doesn't need to see him frightened, his Angel needs strength and support, not more fear. "I only need a few more minutes alone with my husband."

"Sure, just don't be too long." Isla's eyes flit from Crowley to Aziraphale, who has moved to a sitting position on the side of the bed. "Adam's really upset about this. He's afraid of what might be coming."

"I understand. Promise I won't be long."

Isla gives him one last hesitant look and begins her way down the hall. Crowley closes the door with a click. He turns, moving in long strides to stand by the bed. "You need to lie back down. Get a little more rest and then I'm going to see about sending you home until this is solved."

"Without you?" Aziraphale shakes his head, that sweet cherubic face crinkling in confusion and hurt. He takes both of Crowley's hands and pulls the demon down to sit beside him. "That is out of the question. Either you leave with me or we both stay."

_Satan, Angel I don't deserve you._ Crowley frees one of his hands and lifts it to twist in soft curls. He has no doubt that his own face must be disgustingly soppy and besotted. Aziraphale loving him so openly and with such veracity has that effect on Crowley. "They won't allow us both to leave. It would make us seem suspect. Also due to our standing in Adam's council, it's our responsibility for at least one of us to be present during a threat like this. If I, of all beings, were to show indifference, the hostility towards demons would only escalate."

"I'm not leaving Crowley." Aziraphale has that look and the demon knows this is going to be a battle he most likely will not win, but he'll be damned again if he doesn't give it his best.

Crowley removes the remaining hand from his husband's grip and places it over his Angel's soft belly. "Please."

"Don't you dare." Aziraphale's nostrils flare and his breathing becomes more pronounced. "Don't you use my condition as some excuse to lock me away like some expensive piece of property. You do this to me all the time, and I'm sick of it Crowley."

"Now, Dove."

"No!" Aziraphale cuts him off, the volume of his outburst causes Crowley to pull away startled. "Don't try and placate me with your sultry words Serpent!"

"I'm only trying to protect you Angel!" Crowley doesn’t often raise his voice at Aziraphale, as it always led to him hating himself afterward. But Aziraphale treating him as if he is committing some sort of atrocity by attempting to keep him safe is uncalled for. "And don't throw that 'Original Tempter, Bringer of Sin and the Downfall of Humanity' shit on me. Don't tell me that deep down you're actually like those assholes we ran into on the street, that when you look at me all you see is Her rejection. Just some vile, filthy Hellbeast."

"Crowley no." The angel looks stricken, the words releasing in a gasp of air. Aziraphale shakes his head vehemently, tears filling his eyes. He grabs his demon's shoulders and pulls him into a hug. "Oh, my love. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean that at all how it sounded. I know you're beautiful, brilliant, kind and loving. You're the most wonderful of all Her creations, my sweet Crowley. Please forgive me, please. I'm just so very frightened, don't send me away alone."

"Shhhhh." Crowley aches at his Angel's pain and the knowledge that he’s the one who caused it. Returning the embrace, he peppers kisses to Aziraphale's temple, while whispering. "It's okay. I get it Dove I only want you to go because I'm afraid too."

"We're a team my darling." Aziraphale lifts his head, slate blue eyes imploring his lover to listen. "We've only made it this far by sticking together. I learned that lesson the hard way. Don't you remember what happened the last time we separated by choice?"

"I do." Crowley nods slowly. The words catch in his throat and he's finding it hard to swallow. A high-pitched whimper escapes the demon involuntarily as his thoughts drift to a bandstand, angrily shouting at the love of his life as his Angel had stood confused and heartbroken on a sidewalk, holy water, a burning bookshop and a world devoid of the one truly perfect thing She's ever made. "I remember it more often than I would like."

"Then we stay together." Aziraphale cups Crowley's face, tracing his thumbs along the bones beneath exposed topaz eyes.

"Fine, but you always stay with me, Adam, Isla or any member of the Them. You are to never be alone with anyone one else from Heaven or Hell, and you DO NOT leave this hotel without me." He holds Aziraphale's gaze, hoping the angel understands the gravity of his words. "If none of the six of us are available, you lock yourself in our room alone and only open the door if it's one of those I've just mentioned."

"Don't be ridiculous Crowley."

"It's called compromise Angel." _Just give me this much. I can't risk losing you._ "You're the brains of our team anyway. It would be better for everyone if you, Isla and Wensleydale work together to parse this all out."

"Oh? If I'm the brains, does that make you the brawn?" Aziraphale flutters his lashes and the upward pull of his soft pink lips is maddeningly seductive.

"You know it." Crowley says hushed. He leans in, pressing his lips to his Angel's. They linger like this only for a bit, there are things to be done after all. "I'm sorry if I upset you Dove. You're right, we are a team."

"Our own side." Aziraphale rubs his nose to Crowley's.

"Our own side." Crowley smiles and kisses him again.

* * *

Side by side and hand in hand, Crowley and Aziraphale return to the sitting room. The large horseshoe shaped sofa occupied from left to right by Gabriel, Michael, Sandalphon, Adam, Pepper, Isla, Brian, Wensleydale, Hastur and Beelzebub.

Standing before this mismatched audience, is an angel. He's tall, at least 196 centimeters in height, with broad shoulders and strong arms. In said arms is a figure, not small by any means, but much smaller than the angel holding them. They're angular and lithe, built similarly to Crowley. And like Crowley, the bloody, limp figure was once a demon.

Aziraphale's hand clamps more firmly around Crowley's as the angel tugs the demon closer. Crowley rubs his thumb across Aziraphale's knuckles and whispers in the blond's ear. "It's okay Love. He’s a throne, I know him, and he isn't who harmed that demon. Let me talk to him."

"Pahaliah, right?" Crowley tugs out of Aziraphale's hold and steps to his former student. "Do you remember me? I was one of your instructors during the beginning phases of the Paradise Project."

"Crowley. How could I forget?" Pahaliah turns to face his former mentor. The whites of his brown eyes have webs of red etched throughout, his wavy, sandy-blond hair is a mess, and tear tracks mark his bronze skin as the wet droplets fall from his chin and onto the demon's body in his hold. "You taught me how to create, that existing wasn't just paperwork and taking orders. That I could enjoy my work and love the human souls under my stead, and that angels and demons aren't that much different from one another." Pahaliah returns his eyes reverently to the broken creature in his arms. "If not for your influence, I would've never given a chance to the love of my life."

"What's their name?" Crowley tilts his head to see the demon's face. The features remain hidden, as the slim face is cradled tightly against Pahaliah's broad shoulder.

"Deva." Pahaliah's body shakes, he dips his face and leaves a trembling kiss to the lifeless brow. "Their name is Deva, and they are...." The angel's voice cracks, and he looks lost for a beat of three seconds. "were my spouse."

"Let's lay them down somewhere and take them into the ummm...investigation room?" Crowley looks to Gabriel and raises his hand to miracle another gurney.

"No need to waste a miracle." Gabriel responds to Crowley's half asked question. " Why don't you escort Pahaliah to our _forensics room_." The archangel makes a point of giving Crowley what he believes to be the correct term for whatever makeshift monstrosity he's put together. "He can fill you and Aziraphale in on what he has already shared with us. And say his goodbyes before he heads back to his room."

"This way." Crowley tics his head in the direction of the hallway door and reclaims Aziraphale's hand. Stepping through that initial entryway, Aziraphale whines softly at seeing the remains of the shattered restroom door. Crowley pulls him close and directs him to their destination.

Reaching the third door on the right, Crowley turns the knob and is a little put off by what he sees. Gabriel has created an abomination of a morgue, autopsy and forensics lab into a single space.

The room is cold and sterile. Crowley is immediately chilled by the sudden drop in temperature, still dressed in his board shorts and tight T-shirt. Along the back wall are a series of metal mortuary freezers bordered by four gurneys. To their left, two autopsy tables and to their right computers, blinking machines, test tubes, vials and all the shiny doo-dads typically seen on American cop shows.

Crowley thinks it might be best not to place Deva's body in one of the coolers while their husband is present. He knows that if he were in Pahaliah's shoes, seeing Aziraphale placed in something so final would crush him. Instead, Crowley crosses the room in long strides and rolls one of the gurneys to the grieving angel. "Lay them down here."

Pahaliah hesitates. It's apparent he is not yet ready to let go and Crowley's heart breaks for him. This will be the very last time he will hold his spouse in his arms. Crowley looks to his Angel, who is looking back with the same pained longing that Crowley feels. _I love you, don't leave me in this world without you._

Crowley forces his attention back to Pahaliah. "Take your time."

The throne focuses on the demon he holds, exhaling a heavy breath, his eyes burst forth with fresh tears. His arms tense around the slender frame as Pahaliah places one last tear soaked kiss to long black hair and then loosens his hold and places Deva's body onto the offered gurney. Pahaliah's hands never leave the demon's body, fingers either in their hair or tracing their face.

Crowley finally gets a good look at the body. This one isn’t sliced open from top to bottom like the last. No, this was a quick stab to the heart, by something that had been very, very sharp and just as holy. The celestial weapon’s energy still pulsing in aftershocks from the wound.

Crowley can now see that Deva had been quite lovely. Millennia in Hell and feelings of hatred can do serious damage to a demon’s appearance, but it has been found in recent years that the sores and pustules many of them once carried, mend and heal while away from the dark recesses of Below and once the being releases their bitterness. Deva’s face is covered in deep scars from the healed blemishes they once wore, but the effect only adds to their beauty. Each line is a shimmering metallic rainbow of colors, as are their lips. Crowley notices similarly shaded scales along the demon’s neck and hands.

“Can you tell us what you know?” Aziraphale asks softly, his beautiful baby blues wide and shimmering with his own unshed tears.

“We’d been in our room, just as instructed.” Pahaliah’s thumb strokes a thin cheekbone. “When the report came across the telly saying the murderer had been obtained and everyone was free to move about again. I was overjoyed that Deva and I would be able to make our dinner reservations at **Le Divin Infernal.** So, I immediately ran to shower and freshen up. When I was finished, I found them just like this, half in the foyer, half in the hall, the door to our suite wide-open.”

“Have you asked Gabriel about this?” Crowley can hear the ice behind Aziraphale’s words. “Why such an announcement would be made, when obviously not true?”

“I did. He seemed confused, as did everyone else in the sitting room. They said no announcement of the sort had been set to broadcast. That not only is the being responsible a cold-blooded killer, but obviously a hacker of sorts.” Pahaliah looks to the door. “I think I’m ready to leave now.”

“You’re sure?” Crowley offers a hand to steady the gargantuan angel, as Pahaliah shuffles clumsily away from the body.

“Yeah, that’s not them anymore and the longer I stay, the harder it will be for me to leave.” The throne’s body still quivers with his grief, but his tears seem to have run dry. “Can I get an escort back to my room?”

* * *

It was agreed that Aziraphale, Isla, Wensleydale, Pepper, and Michael would be left in the room to study the bodies for evidence and scour the library for any information that might help. Michael and Pepper also working as protection for the other three in the rest of the group’s absence.

Crowley, Gabriel, Adam, Sandalphon, Brian, Hastur, and Beelzebub had, as a group, walked Pahaliah to his room. Crowley had worried about leaving the lost angel on his own, but Adam argued that there was a lot of work to be done, and not a lot of time to do it. They couldn’t relinquish any of their needed manpower for such a task.

Gabriel offered they split up to investigate the hotel in pairs, as he stared doe-eyed at Beelzebub. Adam shot that idea down as well, stating it was too time-consuming.

Adam suggested instead that they should arm themselves, investigate the beach, and then call an emergency meeting in the hotel lobby over the telly emergency alert system. To this everyone unanimously agreed.

Step one of this plan took a bit of ingenuity, since all occult and celestial weapons had been destroyed after the signing of the Truce. This resulted in their little team raiding the hotel’s gift shop for anything sharp, liquidy, or sparky that they could bless or curse.

Step two is in effect now, an hour and a half after Crowley reluctantly left Aziraphale in a suite on the 60th floor. The demon finds himself standing on the beach, feeling mildly ridiculous, armed with a high-powered water gun filled with holy water and a cursed knitting needle.

“None of us are trained in this nonsense.” Beelzebub huffs, kicking the sand as they all wander about aimlessly with no clue as to what to do. “Do any of you, honest to Satan, think you can properly handle this sort of situation?” They point to the hotel and the patrons standing on their balconies watching them. “Or are we just doing this for show?”

Gabriel flusters, looking as if he wants to argue, but unable to find the words. Hastur and Sandalphon appear bored and angry with everyone. Crowley agrees with Beelzebub’s view and Adam and Brian share a knowing nod.

“No, none of us know what we’re doing.” Adam points to Gabriel. “But he was onto something with the whole American crime show trope. So, my idea is, what if this _is_ all for show? I mean, I’ve learned from Crowley’s stories, that as long as you look to be doing something, then the masses expecting things from you stay appeased.”

Beelzebub smirks at Crowley with a mirthful appreciation. “He always was a useless demon.”

“Wasn’t really my scene.” The red-head returns the smirk with one of his own and a shrug.

“Are you telling me, your plan is standby and do nothing while someone continues to go about murdering?” Gabriel gapes at the human.

“No, of course not, but this.” Adam points to each member of their little rag tag group. “This show of an investigation can be a great way to cover for my actual plan.”

The former anti-Christ waves for the group to move in closer together and crouch so that their audience in the balconies might think they’ve found something. “We go about pretending we know what we’re doing. Maybe even give updates stating we think we found the suspect, then drop hints as to where each of us might be alone next. We use ourselves as bait to draw whoever this is out.”

“You’re serious?” Gabriel tilts his head as if looking for Adam’s joke.

“I am, dead serious.” Adam shifts, a sheepish smile crossing his face. “All I ask is no one, and I mean _no one_ tells the others working upstairs in the suite. I can’t risk Pepper finding out what I’m up to.”

Adam glances around to his companions who each slowly nod. Gabriel and Crowley the last and most hesitant of the bunch.

“Two things if I’m going to do this.” Crowley adds before dedicating himself to this fully. “Have everyone move their mirrors from their rooms, and no one lets on to Aziraphale about this either.”


	6. Chapter 6

Isla and Michael are tasked with handling autopsy, Wensleydale and Aziraphale with searching Gabriel's library for any clues to the identity of the mirror being. Pepper will utilize her skills between both duos and also stand as guard.

Aziraphale is seated at the bar, book open on the polished surface, when Crowley and the rest of his group returns. Gabriel heads directly to his study to access his laptop and send out the televised update and the notification of a mass conference to be held beside the fountain in the park. Beelzebub, Adam and the Them follow the archangel through the bookshelves to his study somewhere on the other end of that wood, leather and paper maze.

"Crowley!" Aziraphale squeaks, absolutely horrified, as he catches sight of his husband. "Why in God's name is that slung so carelessly against your side?!"

The outburst catches the attention of the other two inhabitants of the sitting room. Sandalphon stands beneath the wall mounted flat screen, hands clasped behind his back and in deep conversation with Hastur. The Duke of Hell is lounging back on the sofa, his arms casually thrown across the back of the large leather monstrosity. They both look to the couple in amused confusion as Aziraphale attempts to confiscate Crowley's holy water rifle.

"What's it matter? He's immune." Hastur curls his nose and shakes his head. He looks to Sandalphon while waving a hand in Aziraphale's direction as if to say _"what the fuck's wrong with this guy?"_

"Oh. Uhmmmm. Pshhhh. Yes. Uhhh." Aziraphale states, communicating with an elegance equal to that of his husband.

"He is. Isn't he?" Sandalphon curves a single brow upward.

"Pfhhhhh." Aziraphale blows air past his upper teeth and lip. He forces a laugh, but the effort falls short of it's intended effect. Rather than the carefree air he means to convey, it makes him sound as frightened as he feels, leaving the angel wringing his hands. "Of course he is. Silly me, sometimes I forget."

"That's a bitch of a thing to forget." Hastur turns his body, pulling one leg onto the sofa to face them better. "Hey, Sandy, imagine if they'd somehow fooled us at their trials. Put some sorta fancy magic trick in place."

"That would be most hurtful." Sandalphon moves around the sofa and leans against it near where Hastur sets. "Because if that were true, it means that after eighteen years of peace and friendship, they don't trust any of us enough to let us in on the secret."

"Well, I can see why. Would get awfully complicated for them if they still had some enemies, ya know? Angels or demons with grudges." The toothy smile Hastur shoots Crowley's way leaves Aziraphale feeling more than a little unsettled. "Cause if Crowley ain't immune to holy water, then preggo ain't immune to hellfire."

"Guys, stop fucking with us." Crowley steps to his right, placing his body between Aziraphale and the two creeps eyeing them like candy. "With everything going on right now, this sort of ribbing is in poor taste."

"You scared little snake?" Sandalphon's gold teeth reflect the light, his lips parting in a gleeful smile. "Has to be true, you’re shaking. It's not uncommon for Aziraphale to be a skittish little flake, but I don't think I've ever seen you so unsteady."

"This really isn't funny. Stop." Crowley backs himself closer to Aziraphale. The angel knows his demon needs to feel him in moments like this. They've almost lost one another too many times in the past, contact is Crowley's way of reminding himself that Aziraphale is still there.

"I'm sorry." Aziraphale whispers over Crowley's shoulder, as he scolds himself internally over his foolish outburst. He's been too overly emotional these past few weeks with the fear of this retreat and now the two of them have most likely been found out.

"Don't be sorry Dove." Crowley turns his head to kiss his Angel's temple, then turns his attention quickly back to their aggressors. "They're bullies. Just trying to scare us. This is nothing more than a sick joke."

Hastur flicks the flint of his newly cursed lighter, plucks the hellfire from the tip and rolls it between his fingers. The flame grows as it moves from digit to digit until it reaches the size of Hastur's head. The demon allows it to rest in the palm of his right hand, causing Sandalphon to move a few meters away. "What makes you think we're joking?"

Crowley lifts the plastic gun and aims it at the frog headed freak. "I hope for your sake you’re chaffing us. Don't think I won't melt you into a puddle of goo to keep my family safe."

"Stop this nonsense before someone gets hurt!" Michael shouts from the doorway to the hallway of doors.

"How long you been eavesdropping, wank wings?" Hastur extinguishes the ball of flame and stands.

"Long enough." Michael glares at Hastur and Sandalphon. "It doesn't matter how they survived those trials. We're all past that now." She turns to Crowley and points to the weapon in his hands. "However, after all I just witnessed, I have to agree with Aziraphale. It's not wise for you to be carrying that."

"I'll be fine." Crowley shrugs, pushing his back ever more tightly to his Angel's front.

Michael gives him a doubt filled once over, and then turns her attention back to Hastur and Sandalphon. "I think it would be best if you were to vacate this room. Also, your behavior will be reported to Beelzebub and Gabriel."

"Awwwww, c'mon!" Hastur groans, stalking around the sofa to stand beside Sandalphon. "We were only joshin'."

"Where would you expect us to go?" Sandalphon scrunches his face into the customary horrible sneer Aziraphale has always hated. "There's a murderer running loose out there."

_Or in here_. Aziraphale watches their two attackers over Crowley's shoulder. The angel places his hands on each side of his husband's waist.

"I'm beginning to think that Gabriel has more rooms in this one suite than what exist in the entirety of the rest of the hotel." Michael rubs her palm across her forehead. "Look, if you two will vacate to one of the rooms down that hallway until I call you back." She points to the open door she has just exited. "I'll not report you to your superiors."

"Fine." Sandalphon sniffs, shuffling in the indicated direction. "I think I'd like to chat alone with my co-worker anyway."

"Maybe some other time mate. I see ya every day in Paradise, think I want to be alone right now." Hastur's face remains hard, his gaze dropping to the floor as he stalks away from the sofa and towards the suite's outer door.

"You can't go out there, you asshole." Sandalphon sounds genuinely worried. "You'll get yourself killed!"

Hastur pauses, hand wrapped around the handle of the half open door, he turns his head just enough to glance to Sandalphon from the corner of his eye. "Don't worry, I'll be back. There's not much that can hurt me. Gotta say, you're the only prick currently in this gaudy ass hotel room I actually like."

Sandalphon gapes as Hastur steps out of the suite, closing the door behind him. After several seconds he blinks and regains motor function of his jaw. "I should follow him."

"I can't stop you, just like I couldn't stop him." Michael motions in the direction of Hastur's departure. "But I will need to let Gabriel and Beelzebub know of your whereabouts."

"Do what you need to do." Sandalphon has cut across to the suite's exit before Michael is done speaking. "I'll message our location once I find him." The archangel also disappears from the safety of the suite.

"What the unholy fuck was all of that?" Crowley drops the water gun, leaving it to dangle at his side.

"Language, dearest." Aziraphale scolds half-heartedly and lifts the strap holding the gun over Crowley's head.

"Angel, I'm gonna need that." Crowley reaches to take back the holy weapon.

Aziraphale turns from him, holding the dangerous plastic to his chest and hurrying with it to the bar. "And you'll get it back, just as soon as I'm certain it's one hundred percent leak proof."

The principality lays the blessed thing on the polished bar top and begins a series of reinforcing miracles. As he works, he listens to Crowley and Michael continue to converse.

"Would you both be willing to file an official report on Hastur and Sandalphon?" Michael asks.

"You just told them that you wouldn't if they left." Crowley enters Aziraphale's peripheral vision, as the demon leans beside him against the bar. "And they very clearly left."

"We'll, I've learned a few tricks from a friend." Michael chuckles. "Technically, if you report them, I never lied. Plus, my deal was that they move themselves to one of the rooms down that hallway." She throws a thumb over her shoulder. "And that is not at all where they've gone."

"I'd prefer you find some protective clothing to wear while handling this thing." Aziraphale reluctantly slides the weapon back to his demon. "But I've reinforced it from cracking and it's leak proof now. I'm begging you, please be careful of splash back."

"I will Angel." Crowley takes Aziraphale's shaking hands and pulls the blond against his body. "Thank you for taking such good care of me."

Crowley, with his angel safely against his side, turns his attention back to Michael. "Sounds to me like you've been fraternizing with a demon. Who's the lucky minion?"

"I _was_ fraternizing. I'm fairly certain they're done with me now." Michael blushes, a sad smile tugs at the corner of her mouth.

"Why is that?" Aziraphale finds himself caring, Michael did just step in on their behalf, after all.

"To give them credit, it's not as if we were anything official. We run into one another a lot, as we are both in upper management. And, oddly enough, on one occasion as damage control in Paradise when Mastiel had a nasty run-in with Hastur." Her eyes flit back and forth quickly as her face drops to the floor. "Forgot that until now. Probably something to look into."

"Um, I'd say it is." Aziraphale thinks to the malicious bastard only minutes ago threatening him with hellfire.

"Anyway." Michael folds her hands behind her back. "The demon of which we speak had just ended a long-term relationship a few months back. It was unfortunately due to one of my close friends, and because of that connection we started talking. I thought it might be going somewhere, until they sent me word this morning not to meet them for breakfast. Then they called me a couple hours later saying we need to go back to being no more than work acquaintances."

"Wait." Aziraphale glances to Crowley to see if the demon is thinking what he is thinking. The red head looks back to him blankly, so Aziraphale returns his attention to Michael. "Where were you to meet them for breakfast this morning?"

“ **The Sweet Tooth**. Why?"

"Ha!" Aziraphale yelps triumphantly and smacks Crowley's arm. The demon looks to his husband, bewildered and hurt. The angel rolls his eyes and holds his hand out in Michael's direction. "She's who Beelzebub was meeting. The one who stood them up."

"I never stood them up!" Michael's eyebrows shoot so high, Aziraphale thinks they may get lost in her hairline. "Gabriel came to me early and said Beez was busy with the welcome ceremony set-up. Then Beez called later and said we shouldn't have any sort of personal relationship any longer. I was on the phone with them when they stumbled upon Muriel and Mastiel's body."

"Hey." Isla interrupts from the door that leads to all the other doors. "Second body was a positive, first body isn't even set up for it, so I'm not sure your idea is the connection."

"You have a lead?" Aziraphale steps toward the human, wandering away from his husband's embrace.

" _Thought_ we had a lead, without more information it's really not enough." Isla steps fully into the room, closing the door behind her. "Did you find anything?"

Aziraphale glances back to his demon. "Well, my husband and his colleagues brushed up on their blessing and cursing of weapons after almost two decades." The angel waves Isla to him and slides down the bar to the book he'd been reading earlier. "I found nothing relevant to the case, But I think I may have found one of your ancestors."

"One of my ancestors?" Isla walks to stand beside the angel. "In a book on angelic lore and magick?"

"Yes. His name was Reginald Kensington and he was an expert on the Nephilim." Aziraphale slides her the book. "Seems you're both interested in religious studies of sorts."

"What makes you think they're related?" Crowley sticks his head between theirs. "Ya know, besides the last name."

"Look at him, darling." Aziraphale lays his finger on the photo of a painting, underneath the caption: **_Reginald Kensington, circa 1539_**. "The resemblance is striking."

The man has Isla's dark eyes, fair, freckled skin and wavy chestnut hair, only his is much shorter. Their facial bone structure is nearly identical and Reginald seems to be about the same height and frail build.

"I guess, maybe." Isla bites her lip. "Be really cool if it is true, says here he was a sorcerer. Be kinda neat if it turns out I have magic powers."

"Message sent to the masses." Gabriel claps his hands, emerging from the bookshelves. "Catch me up on what's happening with the forensics of the case before we all mosey down to the park."

"We have nothing." Isla closes the book and slides it back to Aziraphale. "Michael thought we might have something, but that lead seems to have hit a wall."

"Well what is it?" Gabriel holds his hands out palms up and wiggles his fingers inward. "Give it to me, maybe we can work through it together."

Michael sighs. "We looked at the victims, and there are a couple similarities between Aziraphale and Deva."

"Which are?" Crowley moves to Aziraphale, placing his hands on his husband's sides.

"Angel/demon relationship, and the victim is pregnant." The room pauses at Michael's words.

"Deva was expecting?" Crowley croaks, breaking the reverent silence.

"They were." Michael purses her lips and lets the gravity of the situation settle over the group.

"Does Pahaliah know?" Crowley wobbles and Aziraphale turns to support him. "No, he would've mentioned it if he had known. Oh, Satan, should we tell him?"

"You know him better than the rest of us." Isla gestures for Aziraphale to lead his demon to the sofa. "We'll leave that up to you."

"They'll come back for you." Crowley's eyes are large and wild, the yellow overtaking the white. He clings to Aziraphale's forearms, his breathing becoming much too quick. "If their modus operandi is pregnant beings, in our sort of union, they'll come back for you Angel."

"No wait, Mastiel and Muriel are both angels." Aziraphale tries to make the scenario less personal, less of an in-your-face threat to his demon.

"Besides, Mastiel isn't pregnant." Isla adds with a hopeful nod to Aziraphale.

"See, my darling." Aziraphale helps Crowley onto the sofa and kneels between the demon's legs. "There is no reason to believe they'll be coming back for me. I'm safe."

"His wife is." Gabriel looks shocked at his own revelation. "Muriel's pregnant. She never mentioned it, but I sensed it when I went to calm her earlier."

"Did you at least question her about where she was or how much she saw when her husband was attacked?" Pepper looks to each of them obviously irritated with the incompetency surrounding her.

"She was there for all of it." Gabriel's eyes flick upward as if he's searching for the memory of their conversation. "She said they were walking on the beach, when approached by a figure in a robe and hood. She couldn't decipher if it was angelic or demonic, as that part of them was somehow blocked. That is until they pulled the infernal blade from within the folds of their robe." Gabriel pauses and slides his fingers through his dark hair, the look on his face apologetic. "The attacker was going for Muriel but Mastiel stepped in the way and took the blow. When she started screaming the attacker ran. Beelzebub and I wandered upon them only moments later."

"You." Michael's tone has shifted from sympathetic to hard. She waves her index finger at Beelzebub. "Were with him when you called me?"

Gabriel's entire body becomes rigid, is eyes so wide they look as if they may fall from his head. Aziraphale wishes Crowley wasn't in the midst of a panic attack, because he would love this.

Beelzebub returns Michael's hand gesture with a jabby point of their own finger. "What'zzzz it matter who walkzzzz me around? You're fanzzzy azzz zzztood me up!"

"I didn't stand you up!" Michael stomps towards them, throwing her hands out in Gabriel's direction. "He told me you were busy with the welcome ceremony and sent him to cancel our plans."

"CAN WE ALL FOCUS ON THE FACT THAT MY HUSBAND AND CHILD ARE IN DANGER, AND DEAL WITH YOUR LOVE TRIANGLE LATER!" Crowley snaps his upper body around to face them, eyes glowing frighteningly like molten gold.

"I'm going to go clean up before this big ass gathering." Isla turns towards the hallway and it's many bedrooms but only one restroom. (Gabriel, it is becoming more and more apparent, is not a think-ahead kind of angel.)

"I need to collect myself as well. Just found out someone I thought was a friend, isn't." Michael shoots another angry glare at Gabriel.

"Meetings in an hour." Gabriel makes a visual effort to swallow. He looks to Beelzebub, who holds their palm up to his face, shakes their head and walks away.

"Crowley my love?" Aziraphale straightens his body and places his hand on Crowley’s cheek, turning his demon to face him.

Crowley lets him and reaches down to pull Aziraphale into his lap. "C’mere Angel. Just let me hold you for a bit."

"Shhhh." Aziraphale settles against his husband’s chest. Burying his face in Crowley’s locks, the angel leaves kisses in soft auburn hair. "I'm fine. I'll be fine."

"Where are Hastur and Sandalphon?" Aziraphale hears Adam ask from beside Gabriel.

"They went out." Isla stops in the doorway, blocking Michael from making the quick exit she was obviously hoping for. The human doesn't seem to notice, instead glancing nervously to Aziraphale and Crowley. "There was a bit of an incident involving them."

"Well get them back here." Gabriel shakes his head, sighing heavily "They worked with Mastiel and Muriel in Paradise. Maybe they know something we missed."

"According to Michael, it’s on record that Hastur has some sort of grudge with the dead husband." Isla adds before finally leaving the room.

"It's confirmed." Crowley throws over his shoulder. "Not a fucking one of you is the Gibbs."


	7. Chapter 7

_Why am I doing this?_ Sandalphon secretly knows the answer to that question, but he isn’t brave enough to admit it to anyone, not even himself. No matter how much he pretends to despise Hastur, or at least not care about him, he’s formed a deep fondness and respect for the demon over the past seventeen years the both of them have been assigned to work in Paradise.

Their friendship has never progressed to anything more, the fault resting mutually on the both of them, each always keeping the other at arms-length. Old habits are hard to break, as well as the trepidation that comes with millennia of learned prejudices. But today the demon throws out that comment about liking him, just before wandering off into danger. So now Sandalphon finds himself searching the dark stairwell which, seconds before, he’d watched Hastur disappear.

“Are you _trying_ to get me killed?” The Duke of Hell’s voice drifts from somewhere below, and Sandalphon slows his pace.

“How do I know this wasn’t your doing?” The archangel recognizes that voice as well but can’t seem to place it. He cautiously peeks over the railing. In the poor lighting he can make out Hastur’s back and a part of his profile but is unable to make out the being he’s conversing with. The mystery person is hidden in shadow. Standing near the wall, where it’s darkest, she continues to speak. “I couldn’t see your face, but there was a rage in the attack that could have only been fueled by angry passion. You split his torso from top to bottom in one swipe!”

“I wouldn’t.” Hastur lifts his hands to the hidden figure, an audible scoff can be heard from the shadow. “Not that I haven’t thought about it, but I’d never hurt you like that.”

“Don’t lie to me.” The voice is very plainly female in pitch. “What we’ve done, what we’ve made, it was a mistake, but I have no clue how to do away with it without drawing suspicion.”

“You can’t.” Hastur’s voice cracks. “We can handle this together, the two of us. Even if it means vanishing completely. There must be some way to go off the grid, Satan and God have created so many other realms together. All it would take is us finding how to get to one of them.”

“You’re not listening Hastur.” A thin hand shoves the demon away. From the darkness emerges Muriel, dark eyes ablaze with fear, the emerald angelic markings that line her thin, bronze cheekbones glint in the low light. She gestures to her stomach. “I’ve wanted rid of this..this _thing_ before you murdered my husband. I’ve been trapped in my own guilt for weeks now wondering what I’m going to do.”

“I didn’t murder him. There’s another dead body and Azirapahle was attacked too. Why would I do that?” Hastur moves to follow her as Muriel begins to ascend the steps. “I swear to all that’s unholy. Besides, I don’t think you actually mean any of what you’re saying. You know that Mastiel wasn’t good to you. He ignored you, left you alone. That’s why you came to me in the first place. We can be together now, don’t walk away from me.”

Sandalphon feels sick. This explains it all, why Hastur has been barely willing to accept his friendship, and nothing more. In his dizzy state, the archangel turns to run up the steps and away from the approaching couple. In his agony, he doesn’t take the care to be as silent in his retreat as he was in his tracking.

“Hey!” Hastur shouts from below. “Who’s there?! Stop!”

“Do something!” Muriel yelps and Sandalphon hears Hastur’s heavy boots thumping up the steps behind him.

The portly angel rounds two floors before crashing through the metal emergency door granting him access to the ninth floor which holds his assigned room. Stepping into the brightness of the corridor, he realizes his mistake. Hastur is sure to recognize him in this clear lighting, but there is no turning back now. If he does, he'll be forced to come face to face with his pursuer and he isn’t yet prepared for the conversation that will come with that confrontation. The last thing Sandalphon wants right now is to explain why he's crying.

_When did I start crying?_ He isn’t sure, but looking back, the tears were forming prior to Muriel revealing herself as Hastur’s lover. He’s heartbroken, and the long line of mirrors lining the hallway fuel his shame.

Sandalphon balks as he catches glimpses of himself in the smooth glass surfaces. He rues the redness of his cheeks, the look of his body reminding him why no one would want him as much as the perfect, petite angel he’d just witnessed openly rejecting the being whose favor he’s vied for these past seventeen years.

The way ahead veers to the left and Sandalphon rounds the corner, glancing behind him as Hastur finally pushes past the stairwell door.

“Sandalphon!” The demon recognizes him and looks relieved. “Mate, hey!”

The archangel drops his gaze to the floor, large droplets slipping down his face. He vanishes around the corner and out of Hastur’s sight, his blurred vision stopping him from noticing the robed figure just ahead. That is until he runs into the creature full force.

The last thing he remembers is a deep voice, and blinding pain as the infernal blade is shoved into the center of his sternum. “Should’ve minded your own business archangel, and not tried for something that should never be yours.”

* * *

It’s only Sandalphon! Hastur thinks, the relief crashing through him in waves. The archangel has bee the closest thing Hastur has had to a best friend since Ligur’s death. Of course, he could never tell him that, would involve a bit of vulnerability, and vulnerable is something Hastur has never liked to feel.

He’s let himself get vulnerable now, Muriel has fucked him over majorly. _Why’d I let myself get mixed up with that uppity bitch._

Deep down he knows that her being an uppity bitch is exactly why he wants her. He doesn’t go for kind, or gentle. Hastur likes those who are vicious and shrewd. It’s also one of the reasons he’s grown so fond of the archangel who’s tearing away from him in fear.

“I’m not going to hurt you pal.” Hastur calls out. He’s nearly to the break in the hallway Sandalphon has just rounded. “I know you’ll keep my secret. I trust you.”

Oddly enough, he realizes he actually does, and trust isn’t something that comes easily to Hastur. He trusts Sandalphon more that he trusts Muriel, the understanding of it hitting him with a jolt. Trusts him as much as he’d trusted Ligur.

Hastur wishes things had been different, that maybe he and Sandalphon could’ve developed into something more, but the archangel had remained slightly distant. Almost as if afraid to cross that line with the demon. If Sandalphon hadn’t expressed such fear, Hastur wouldn’t have remained so emotionally distant in turn, and very likely wouldn’t be messed up in the situation he currently finds himself.

Hastur makes the corner, hoping he hasn’t somehow inadvertently ruined their friendship, when he comes upon a scene that stops him cold. Sandalphon, propped upright against the wall, the same blade that had been left beside Mastiel’s body, now plunged to the hilt in the angel’s chest. _We took that as evidence. How did it make it back out of Gabriel’s suite?_

“No. shit no.” Hastur drops beside him. Sandalphon is alive but barely. His breaths coming in short, staggered gasps. “Satan, Sandalphon, what can I do?”

“Run.” Sandalphon raises a bloody hand and pushes at Hastur’s shoulder. The archangel’s words sound garbled and wet, and Hastur’s heart drops into his stomach at the implication of what that means. “You’re in danger here, take Muriel and go somewhere safe.”

“What happened?” Hastur takes the hand that’s pushing him away and clasps it in his own. “Who did this?”

Sandalphon weakly shakes his head and closes his eyes. “Please, go.”

And with that, the archangel exhales one last time, slumping forward.

“Wake up.” Hastur begs, panicking when Sandalphon goes limp. “Asshole, wake up!”

No response. Hastur drops Sandalphon’s hand and searches desperately for any sign of life. There’s no pulse, no intake of air and Hastur reels at the understanding that yet another deeply loved friend is gone.

“Fuck!!” He screams, the sound absorbing into the mirror covered walls and soft carpet. He kneels on the white nylon, now spotted with dark red stains. He doesn’t know how long he remains in this position, folded forward on himself and sobbing, as a multitude of doors begin to open.

Hastur barely registers the shouts of fear and doors slamming shut around him. He jerks away from hands that try to pull at his arms. He only fully comes back to his surroundings when someone calls out a sentence that breaks him more than he thought he could already be.

“There’s a second body in the stairwell!”

* * *

Crowley is beginning to calm. Aziraphale remains curled against him, securely held on the demon’s lap. The angel’s head resting on the Crowley’s shoulder, his fingers twisting in the short hairs at the nape of Crowley’s neck. The demon tips his head down and kisses his Angel’s sweet face. “The meeting will start soon.”

“I’m aware.” Aziraphale lifts his head to capture Crowley’s lips.

They’ve been alone in the room for a long while now. Gabriel and Isla having left not long after Isla had returned from her shower and the Them had exited for the park 15 minutes later. Michael still hasn’t emerged from wherever she’d gone down the hall of doors. As soon as they had seen Gabriel leave, Beelzebub followed Michael’s path, most likely trying to make some sort of amends.

With his right hand, Crowley cups the back of Aziraphale’s hair, with his left he braces the small of the angel’s back, holding him in place. The honeymoon phase has never worn off for the couple, and Crowley doubts it ever will. He loves Aziraphale with a strength that most have only heard of in stories, an intensity that shouldn’t be possible for humans or angels, let alone a demon. The Angel is his grace, his life force, and the only sustenance Crowley needs to survive.

“I don’t like you being out in the open, but I also don’t want to leave you alone.” Crowley murmurs when they part. He rests his head against his husband’s. “I wish you’d agree to go home.”

“Let’s not delve into that again.” Aziraphale rubs the tip of his nose against Crowley’s. “Tonight, when we can retire to our room, nestled together in our hotel bed, I’ll remind you why it’s in your best interest to keep me near your side.”

“You’re a bastard.” Crowley chuckles, leaning back to take the entirety of his Angel into view. “But you’re my bastard.”

“I am.” Aziraphale gives the demon one of his brilliant, blinding smiles and wiggles in his lap. “Always.”

Crowley’s eyes roam tenderly over Aziraphale, truly appreciating the perfect being, who for some unfathomable reason, has decided to give the Serpent of Eden his heart. “Do you have any idea just how much you’re loved?” _In case something happens to me, I need you to know._ “How unbelievably perfect I think you are?”

“I love you too.” Aziraphale returns his gaze, with just as much gentle adoration. “And, yes, I do. You remind me every day.”

Someone clears their throat behind them. Both angel and demon turn to see Michael at the main egress to the suite, Beelzebub stands just beyond the open door in the hall. The archangel blushes at her interruption. “I’m sorry, but it’s time to go.”

“Don’t be sorry dear girl.” Aziraphale stands and offers a hand to his husband. “There is work to be done.”

“Crowley might be right, you know.” Beelzebub offers as the couple steps beside them into the hall. “It would probably be safest if Aziraphale were sent home. I could easily convince Gabriel to go along with it.”

“I’m sure you could.” Michael mumbles, shutting the door behind her. She pushes past her companions and walks very quickly to the lift.

“Thank you for your concern.” Aziraphale weaves his arm through Crowley’s bent elbow. “But I’m pregnant, not fragile. I’m still a warrior and forever loyal to my sworn allegiances.” He looks to Crowley, blue eyes bright and determined. “And I have sworn an eternal bond to this magnificent being at my side. Where he goes, I go and where he stays, I stay.”

Crowley purses his lips and with his free hand pats the one wound around his bicep. Beelzebub shrugs their shoulders and the trio hurry to catch up to Michael who is holding open the lift door.

“Thank you for coming to our aid earlier.” Crowley addresses Michael as the lift makes it’s descent. “I wasn’t sure how you felt about me. We’ve never talked much outside of business and politics these past eighteen years, and I know how much you once hated me.”

“You mean after the Ligur ordeal?” Michael tilts her head, face breaking into an amused smile. “He was a well-used asset, but I think you may have the wrong idea about the depth of our relationship.” She waves off the idea with a quick flap of her hand. “You’re not the only one in fact. Hastur still hates me, almost as much as he hates you. Thought I was trying to snatch away his partner. His worries are as unfounded as yours. It was just business between me and L.”

“Then why did you personally deliver the holy water at my trial?”

“I wasn’t too keen on watching the execution of one of my own.” She gestures to Aziraphale. “So, when Gabriel asked for volunteers, I jumped on the offer.”

The lift opens to the lobby and Beelzebub pushes their way out first. “No issues with the killing of demons though.”

Michael drops her chin to her chest and rubs her brow. Crowley places a hand on her shoulder and whispers low enough that the Prince of Hell can’t hear. “They’re just pissed, and honestly being kinda hypocritical on the subject. Don’t let them get to you.”

“Easier said than done.” She gives him a terse smile. “But thanks.”

They’ve waited long enough that the other residents have left the hotel and are already gathered at the park, making for a much easier navigation through the lobby and out into the warm dusk air. The sun is just beginning to set on the horizon, casting brilliant red, purple, yellow and orange light all around them. Crowley feels Aziraphale press his body close as the large crowd to one side of the statue of God and Satan comes into view.

Gabriel stands on the gold lined edge of the fountain. Crowley sees a delightful disaster opportunity. How hilariously easy and not unexpected it would be for a certain archangel to lose his balance on the slick surface and ruin his expensive clothes in the water. Crowley bites back the urge to make mischief tonight. It wouldn’t be appropriate, but a demon can daydream.

“He was covered in blood and aggressively shaking one of the victims.” An angel shouts up to Gabriel. The angel’s hands grasping the left elbow of Hastur’s arm, assisted by another angel with a similar grip on the Duke’s left. The demon’s hands are bound behind his back with rope, his ugly blond wig askew and his clothing covered in dried blood. “He openly admitted to being with both victims at the time of the murders.”

Hastur hangs his head, shoulders sagging forward and, the most shocking to Crowley, tears falling in noticeably large droplets from his eyes.

“I’d never. Never.” Hastur croaks, shaking his head.

“Lies!” Calls a voice from near where Crowley stands. He looks in the direction of the voice to see Yemuel watching him intently. “Muriel told us all it was the demons, and here we have one over her and another angel’s dead body!”

The crowd erupts into loud arguing and random hateful shouts. Gabriel calls out over the disruptive gathering. “A demon was murdered as well. Just hours ago. Their husband brought their body to my room. This is not them against us. This is a lone, sick individual who must be stopped.”

“More lies!” Yemuel continues to rile the crowd. “He’s in league with them! All the archangels are!”

“Stop this nonsense.” Adam calls from the opposite edge of the throng, flanking him are the Them and Isla.

“Says the spawn of Satan!” Yemuel shouts back. Crowley wants nothing more than to deck the husband ogling asshole. “He’s practically a demon himself!”

“Stay here.” Michael tells her companions, before turning towards her former boss.

“I’m coming with you.” Crowley moves to follow her and Aziraphale tightens his grip on the demon’s arm.

“You’ll do no such thing.” The principality holds his ground. “That would involve you stepping into the center of that chaos, and I will not permit it.”

“You two need to head back to your room.” Beelzebub points back towards the hotel. “We’ll reconvene with you in the morning. For now, get yourselves somewhere safe, this might get bad.”

“You should head back as well.” Michael lays her hand on Beelzebub’s elbow.

“That’s _my_ employee.” The Prince points to Hastur while staring the archangel down. “And someone I’ve known and called a friend since before the Fall. I’m not about to leave him to the wolves.”

“I’ll do everything in my power to bring him back safely.” Michael doesn’t back down. Most would cower under that glare from the Lord of Flies, but the archangel holds steady without flinching. “Half this gathering is after demon blood, and I don’t want you in the middle of it.”

“What you want for me doesn’t matter.” Beelzebub yanks their arm away and pushes through the bodies to Gabriel.

“I thought they were apologizing to you earlier.” Aziraphale crinkles his brow. “I was under the impression that was why they went to find you in the hallway of rooms.”

“They never came to find me.” Michael returns Aziraphale’s confused gaze with her own. “They were exiting the bathroom where you had been attacked when I left to come get you both.”

Crowley can see the gears turning in his Angel’s mind as he tugs him away. “We’ll figure it out tomorrow. I say we take Michael’s advice and turn in.”

“I’ll see you in the morning.” Michael spins to follow in the direction Beelzebub had went, when the unthinkable happens.

Gabriel reaches down to pull Hastur away from his captors, the two angels holding him pull back. What follows is a violent tug of war for the man shaped being. Gabriel steps down from his platform to gain a better hold on Hastur, but with very little progress. Just as it looks like the two aggressors might win, Beelzebub steps to the side, shoving one the assailants from the Duke of Hell. The captor loses their hold on Hastur, and her companion relinquishes their hold as well, causing him to fall forward into Gabriel. Instead of taking back their captive, they begin to shove Beelzebub in turn. This results in the Prince of Hell stumbling backwards, their calves smacking against the corner of the fountain and them toppling over into the water.

The sound that leaves Beelzebub will haunt Crowley for the rest of his existence. It’s followed by Michael’s screams, as well as Gabriel’s. The water around Beelzebub sizzles, as Crowley’s former boss melts into oblivion.

Aziraphale gasps pulling his stunned husband away from the horror. “We need to go Crowley! Now!”

Crowley stumbles backwards, allowing himself to be drug away. His brain doesn’t believe what he’s seeing is real. How could someone place something so dangerous in the center of the square? Who would be so irresponsible and wrecklessly cruel? “Angel, that…..that’s…”

_Holy water._


	8. Chapter 8

“We need to go Crowley! Now!” Aziraphale tugs his sputtering husband away from the scene. Crowley stands rigid but not unmoving, the demon stumbles backwards, his yellow eyes not turning away from the frightful scene to look at his desperate spouse.

“Angel that’s……that’s…..”

“I know exactly what that is!” The angel spins Crowley from the horror to face him. “You need to focus on me right now and get us both to our room before the others influx back to theirs for protection. We can’t afford to be caught in another congested crowd right now, it would be too dangerous. You want me safe, don’t you?”

_I’ll play dirty if I must._ Aziraphale knows that however little Crowley cares for his own well-being, he will do absolutely anything for his Angel’s. Aziraphale adds to his own little temptation by giving Crowley the wide doe eyes that his husband has never once denied. “Please, my darling, I’m frightened.”

Crowley blinks rapidly as if broken from some strange spell. He snakes his arm around Aziraphale’s waist and pulls him close. “I’m sorry angel. Let’s get you inside.”

Gabriel’s strained voice drifts from behind them as they rush away. “I would ask all demons, all angelic partners of demons and all children of such partnerships, please return to your rooms at this time, as the scene is much too dangerous for your families. All angels not affiliated in such ways with demons or their offspring, must remain here with me until the previously mentioned groups are all safely inside.”

The crowd erupts in aggressive shouts and screams. The sounds of running footsteps and fighting can be heard, growing fainter as they continue to move away. Well, almost all those sounds grow fainter. Aziraphale realizes in a panic, that one set of footfalls seems to be growing louder. Before he has a chance to turn and look at their pursuer, the principality’s bicep is grasped harshly from behind and he is yanked unceremoniously from Crowley’s arms.

“Unhand me!” Aziraphale’s free hand balls into a fist and makes violent contact with the interlopers jaw.

“You’re better than that….that thing!” Yemuel rubs a hand across his reddening cheek as he squeezes Aziraphale’s arm tighter. “You’re a hero, Aziraphale. A born leader, and absolutely gorgeous. I’ve been in love with you since you became famous, and I know I could be better for you than some dirty demon.”

Crowley implants himself between the beefy asshole and his husband. “Listen, bollocks for brains, what you’re feeling isn’t love, it’s an unhealthy obsession with a celebrity you don’t even know. It’s fine to respect someone, idolize them, Hell even fantasize about them. But it’s wrong to think your fantasies have to become reality.”

“No angel should love outside their own kind.” Yemuel relinquishes his hold on Aziraphale, using both hands now to grasp at Crowley’s T-shirt. “All of these disgusting hybrids walking round, angels tainting themselves with your kind, you’re the one responsible for starting these abominations. I don’t know how you tempted the principality away from his place with us, but you’ll pay snake.”

“You would dare to threaten my husband?” Aziraphale takes hold of the hands wound in Crowley’s shirt. The blond pulls at Yemuel’s fingers, wrenching them open. “Release him this instance, or I _will_ be forced to protect what is mine.”

Yemuel removes one of his hands from the demon’s shirt and uses it to cup Aziraphale’s chin. Lifting the principality off the ground, the larger angel tosses him to the side. Aziraphale lands on the concrete sidewalk with a pained squawk. He yells out a second time when he realizes the move his demon is about to make.

While Yemuel is distracted, Crowley’s fingers fish into the waistband of his own board shorts, retrieving the cursed knitting needle. When Yemuel looks back to the demon, Crowley has the weapon pointed at the angel’s eye. “That wasn’t a very smart idea, mate.”

“I knew it.” Yemuel drops the red-head. He looks to Aziraphale, who stands. A few angels, demons and their young rushing past him on the sidewalk. “Murderer by nature. Evil, as they all are.”

“You alright Angel?” Crowley lays his free hand on Aziraphale’s stomach, the angel falling against the demon’s side.

“I’m fine.” He smiles when Crowley kisses his temple. The smile vanishing as Aziraphale turns his attention to Yemuel. “He’s not a murderer, has never been. He, however _, is_ a husband and a father trying to protect his family from a closed-minded brute.”

Yemuel’s eyes focus where Crowley’s hand rests on Aziraphale’s middle, nostrils flaring, and lip curling in a disgusted sneer. “Too far gone to fix. Thought I could save you before it was too late. Filthy, little demon’s whore like the rest of them. Can’t wait until you’re all dead.”

“You even think of touching him, I’ll make sure it’s the last thing you do.” Crowley sneers, brandishing the needle and tensing for a fight.

“Don’t love. He’s all talk.” Aziraphale takes hold of Crowley, pulling his demon away from the scene. “He’s not worth it. Please get me inside before the crowd becomes too thick.”

“You stay the fuck away from him, you got me?” Crowley spits at Yemuel. He puts the needle away and allows Aziraphale to lead him back to the room.

Thank Someone, they hadn’t been forced to waste too much time with the unwanted confrontation. In less than a quarter hour the couple are hurrying through the door of their assigned room. Crowley locks and bolts the door behind them and pulls Aziraphale close.

“You were right. We can’t stay.” The demon murmurs into Aziraphale’s hair. “I need to get you out of here, and if you won’t go without me, then I guess it’s time for me to leave too.”

“What about your sense of duty?” Aziraphale is more than a little shocked at his husband’s suggestion. “The kind of rift this will cause with Adam and the rest of management?”

“I’ll get permission.” Crowley lifts his head to look into Aziraphale’s eyes. The gold of Crowley’s iris is engulfing his sclera, the slit pupil is hair thin. “I’ll call Adam and Gabriel. Get permission from both for us to depart. Michael can vouch to the masses we weren’t involved, she saw us in the room at the time of the most current murders.”

“It would be wise to get the angel/demon children out of here as well.” Inspiration hits Aziraphale. “If the unborn are in danger, it wouldn’t be illogical to believe the born are in equal danger. Their parents will most likely need to stay for questioning, but we could volunteer to watch over the children safely on earth until this is over.”

“Good idea. You’re brilliant, and I love you.” Crowley captures Aziraphale’s lips, pulling their bodies flush together. The angel luxuriates in the touch, in the safety of this embrace.

“You know, Adam nor Gabriel will be available for several hours more and it is most likely unsafe to have a mass exodus tonight.” Aziraphale says against Crowley’s lips when they part. “And my nerves are too shot to sleep, so can you think of anything we might do to pass the night away?”

“I can.” Crowley skims his fingers tenderly through Aziraphale’s hair. “I was hoping you’d ask.”

“Then come with me, my darling.” Aziraphale takes hold of Crowley’s hand and leads the demon to the bed.

There are no lights, but the simulated full moon illuminates the bed in a beautiful silvery glow. The sheer curtains flap in the night breeze as the smell of the sea drifts in from the open balcony door. Their room is much smaller than most in the opulent hotel but still luxurious in a subdued way. It consists of a bath on the left and a large bedroom with a king sized bed on the right, positioned just meters from the aforementioned balcony. On the wall opposite the bed was a mounted flat screen plasma television. Not like the behemoth that adorns Gabriel’s sitting room wall, but large enough to be seen without strain from the bed and take up a large portion of the wall.

The room is decorated with the normal hotel room décor. Inexpensive, unoriginal art, a cheap nightstand, dresser and……Aziraphale stops dead in his tracks, as some of the wall hangings catch his attention. “Crowley, we haven’t removed our mirrors.”

“On it Dove.” Crowley makes a direct line to the offending furniture and removes it from where it hangs.

“I don’t know what to do with the bathroom mirror, it’s bolted into the wall.” Aziraphale says as Crowley returns from disposing of the looking glass.

“We keep the bathroom door closed.” Crowley shrugs. “Not much else we can do.”

“And if I need to pee.” Aziraphale blushes. “Or more than pee.”

“We go off the balcony.” Crowley gives his husband a cheeky grin.

“I’ll find something to cover the damn thing.” Aziraphale rolls his eyes and waggles a finger at his demon. “You get your sexy ass undressed and in that bed.”

“Reverse that Dove.” Crowley coaxes his Angel towards the bed. “I saw a tarp out in the hall. I’ll cover it, go get ready for me.”

Aziraphale stands at the edge of the bed and watches as Crowley wanders back out into the hall. The angel doesn’t begin undressing until his demon is back in the room safely and has again secured the door behind him.

“It’s crazy out there.” Crowley calls from in the other room. “Angels and demons pushing past one another. All of ‘em shouting and yelling. We got up here and settled just in time.”

Aziraphale strips bare, slides under the soft duvet, and waits for the love of his life to join him.

“All done Angel. You should be able to pee and more than pee without worry.” Crowley steps into the bedroom and stops, his mouth dropping open at the sight of Aziraphale propped up on pillows. The angel has allowed the duvet to fall across his lap, leaving his chest and stomach exposed. “Wow.”

“You’ve seen me like this thousands, if not millions, of times.” Aziraphale giggles. God, he loves the way Crowley looks at him.

“And it still amazes me that I’m this lucky.” Crowley rapidly rids himself of his tight shirt and shorts. “I don’t think you fully realize how stunning you are.”

“Then show me, my darling.” Aziraphale laughs as a skinny, naked demon pounces playfully onto the bed.

“Before we start, are you ok?” Crowley shuffles his legs under the thick blanket. Snuggling close to his Angel, the demon lays a hand just below Aziraphale’s navel. “The muscle-bound arsehole didn’t hurt you, did he? You took a Heaven of a fall.”

“My rump is a bit sore, but nothing that won’t have faded by tomorrow.” Aziraphale shifts his body and pushes Crowley to lay on his back. “Now, release your worries for tonight my love. Let us revel in this quiet night alone. If all goes well, starting tomorrow we will be surrounded by children and not likely to be able to enjoy one another’s bodies until this whole ordeal is over.”

Crowley kisses him, permitting the angel to maneuver his body however Aziraphale likes. The blond’s tongue presses against the red-head’s lips asking permission to enter. Crowley grants him entrance, moaning as Aziraphale moves to lay atop him.

Crowley’s body feels cool under the angel’s. The demon’s dick is trapped between their stomachs, thick and hardening as Aziraphale moves against him.

He laps at the interior of Crowley’s mouth, and delights in the taste. His demon is more delicious than any treat Aziraphale has been given the opportunity to indulge. His skin now smooth and flecked with obsidian scales. Scales the rest of the world are rarely privileged enough to see. They tend to appear when Crowley starts to lose himself, in either anger or ecstasy. Only Aziraphale gets to see them in moments like this.

The angel moves his lips from Crowley’s and with them travels the length of the demon’s jaw, neck and shoulders. He kisses here, suckles there and occasionally nips gently at his husband’s skin evoking desperate moans. Crowley squirms beneath him, his hard cock rubbing wantonly against Aziraphale’s soft flesh.

“Fuck, Aziraphale, what you do to me.” Crowley gasps as Aziraphale takes a red nipple between his lips and teeth, sucking mercilessly.

“Hmmmmmm.” Is Aziraphale’s only response as he ends his onslaught of that hard, pert mound and hungrily devours it’s counterpart. Crowley weaves his fingers into platinum curls and seems to lose his ability to speak coherently. A series of nonsensical syllables leave Crowley’s throat when Aziraphale continues his travels further down his lover’s stomach until finally reaching his prize.

Crowley’s penis bobs, large, leaking and ready to be devoured. Aziraphale licks at the tip, cleaning away the salty treat left for him by his demon’s excitement and then opens his mouth taking the entire feast into the back of his throat.

“Yes!” Crowley shouts, his hold on Aziraphale’s hair roughening. The angel moans at the exquisite pain tingling across his scalp. The vibration resulting in Crowley losing himself further in his husband’s movements and he begins to pant frenziedly. “Yes! Dove! You’re so good! You make me feel so fucking good!”

Aziraphale knows Crowley’s body, has studied it extensively in the past two decades. One might say he’s an expert, and at this moment he’s very aware that his lover is on the verge of climax. So with one final slurp and an almost sinful *pop, Aziraphale pulls his lips from the throbbing, red shaft.

“Angel. Aziraphale, please.” Crowley moans almost deliriously, his gorgeous topaz eyes glowing in the moonlight as Aziraphale slides up the length of the demon’s body, holding his gaze.

“Please what, my love.” Aziraphale’s voice is husky, filled with lust, love and ecstatic pleasure at the notion that he is the one, the only one, capable of placing the Serpent of Eden in such delightfully devastated state.

Crowley’s response is to mewl desperately, grab at Aziraphale’s hips and rut his aching dick against the slit between the angel’s legs. “Pleasse.”

Aziraphale positions his own aching heat against the spit slicked shaft and slowly lowers himself down. Crowley’s head falls back, Aziraphale watches as the red-head’s eyes roll into the back of his head just before they close. “Yes, Angel! Ride me Dove, use me!”

Aziraphale leans forward, pressing his body to Crowley’s, rubbing his clit against the demon’s pubic hair for friction. God, he loves this, the way Crowley fits within him and against him perfectly. They were made for one another, mind, corporation and essence. Aziraphale believes with his entire being in soulmates and Crowley has always been his.

“I love you Crowley.” Aziraphale breathes into Crowley’s mouth.

“I love you too, Aziraphale.” Crowley’s hands grasp at the plump curves of the blond’s ass, the possessive touch pushing the angel over the edge.

“Crowley!” Aziraphale shouts his name as the demon’s seed shoots hot and pulsing deep within him. The contractions of his own orgasm pulling Crowley’s spend ever further within him.

“Thank you.” Aziraphale slips to Crowley’s side. Snuggling closely to his demon, the angel throws an arm over Crowley’s stomach and rests his head and part of his upper body on his husband’s chest.

“I wasn’t very good that time was I?” Crowley states groggily and maybe a bit sad.

Aziraphale lifts his head, brow furrowed in confusion. “What on earth would make you say that?”

“You only got off once.” Crowley tilts his chin down, gold eyes watching Aziraphale carefully. “With these bits, I can usually get you to come at least three or more times. Barely got you there once this time. If you’d waited a few seconds longer, it wouldn’t have happened at all.”

“Crowley, my darling.” Aziraphale lifts his hand from Crowley’s chest and smooths it through soft red hair. “You were as excellent as always. I have never once been disappointed while partaking in coitus with you. You are amazing.”

“Did you just call it coitus?” Crowley raises an eyebrow. “Sounds so cold and technical.”

“What? You prefer fucking?” Aziraphale licks his lips salaciously.

“That.” Crowley blinks multiple times, his lips held in a tight grin on the verge of laughter. “That one is definitely fun, but I also like lovemaking.”

“Good. Then we shall participate in all three.” Aziraphale swats Crowley playfully when the demon bites his lips and waggles his eyebrows. “But that was enough for tonight, I think I do need a little sleep.”

“Then come here.” Crowley pulls his Angel back onto his chest and wraps his strong, lean arms around him. “I love you. Goodnight.”

“Love you Crowley.” Aziraphale murmurs, sleepily into soft chest hair. “Goodnight.”

* * *

Hastur had been prepared to die. The crowd was screaming for it and honestly, part of him was ready to welcome it. He has no one left.

This morning he was going to be a father, granted he didn’t love the mother, but he would’ve found some way to make it work. He liked the idea of having a child, someone in this world he could protect and live for.

He also had a best friend that he cared about greatly. Someone he was willing to keep as a close companion for the rest of eternity. Of course, not to the level he wanted. There was his child’s mother to contend with

Or maybe he could have had both. He wouldn’t necessarily _have_ to stay with Muriel because she was pregnant. Co-parenting is a thing. The demon smiles thinking of a life with Sandalphon and the little one running around their feet.

The joy of the fantasy doesn’t last long before morphing into something painful. He’ll never have it. In a span of less than fifteen minutes, that beautiful future was yanked from his grasp, leaving him alone and unloved once again.

Add to it all, the only remaining demon Hastur respected melting to goo right before his eyes. Now his only close associates are Crowley, some angels, a few humans and Satan’s son.

Actually, that last one he kind of respects.

Gabriel, Michael, Adam, Pepper and their other human associates had surrounded him and led him through the crowd. The other demons had already made their ways inside and Gabriel had ordered the remaining angels in audience to stay out until his group had entered the hotel.

“I think it would be best if we were to all stay together in my room.” Gabriel states as the eight of them are secured in the lift.

“Is that where Aziraphale and Crowley went?” Pepper asks, arms crossed over her chest.

“Most likely not, they don’t have a key.” Michael leans against the lift wall, rubbing the back of her neck.

“Then I think we should all separate to our own rooms too.” Brian adds. “Pick a time to meet up in the morning.”

“I don’t want to be alone.” Wensleydale looks to Gabriel, pushing his glasses up his nose. “I’ll stay with you.”

“Or you’re welcome to my room.” Michael points to Gabriel. “He can’t be trusted.”

“Michael.” Gabriel pleads. “We’ve been friends for too long, you seriously going to be this way with me over a little healthy competition? They were a catch, and I’d wanted them a lot longer than you.”

“Don’t talk to me.” Tears begin to slide over Michael’s cheeks. “You’re not even upset about it.”

“I don’t cry easily.” Gabriel holds his hands at his sides, palms out.

“I’d rather stay with Michael too.” Hastur’s feels raw, but what survival instincts he does have left are screaming not to be alone with Gabriel. They might both be archangels, but Michael does seem to be giving more of a shit about what happened to his former boss. “She seems a safer choice. Ya know, me being a demon and all.”

“I’ll stay with Gabriel.” Isla adds. “I want an early start on his books in the morning and at getting a look at the new bodies.”

“Yeah, same.” Adam takes Pepper’s hand, ignoring her disapproving look. “Would be better for everyone. Safer.”

The lift dings, opening to Gabriel’s private floor. He holds the door open and waits. “So, who’s coming with me?”

Everyone but Michael and Hastur step out. Pepper doing so begrudgingly, still giving Adam the stink-eye. Michael looks to the demon before her. “Your choice. You’ve been through a lot, which makes you more comfortable?”

“Can I go back to my own room? Alone?” Hastur tries to feel out if they view him as a suspect.

“You can.” Gabriel nods. “I’ll see you both for work first thing in the morning.”

Michael doesn’t give him the courtesy of a response. After the lift closes she looks to Hastur. “Would you like me to escort you to your room.”

“Nah, mate.” Hastur gives her a half grin. “I’ll be alright.”

* * *

When Crowley wakes it’s still night outside. The first thing he becomes aware of is the lack of warm angel in his arms.

“Aziraphale?” The demon sets up, scanning the room groggily for his husband.

The second thing he notices in the well moonlight lit room is a figure kneeling on the floor in front of the flat screen.

“Angel, what are you doing?”

The third thing that registers as he begins to wake more is the sound of gagging and what looks to be Aziraphale grappling at his neck. Crowley bolts out of bed falling to the floor beside his husband.

“Angel! Oh, Satan, Dove what’s wrong?” Crowley desperately searches the room for a cause. Aziraphale’s eyes are bulging, his lips turning blue.

The fourth and final thing Crowley notices is the shift of movement in the telly’s glass. Looking to the screen he sees his and his husband’s reflections. Behind the angel is a hooded figure with their hands on Aziraphale’s throat.

“Let him go, you son of a bitch!” Crowley rushes over, picks up the nightstand and hurtles it at the screen. It doesn’t break but it does cause the attacker to release their hold.

Aziraphale falls onto his hands, gasping for air. Crowley finds his own breath again at that beautiful sound. His relief is short-lived, because the glass of the screen starts to ripple like water, and the creature’s upper body emerges from the device.

“Get up, Aziraphale.” Crowley pulls his still naked husband to standing, neither of them having dressed before falling asleep. “We need to go.”

“Oh Lord.” The angel croaks, his windpipe obviously bruised from the attack. He stares wide-eyed at the monster as it tumbles to the floor.

Crowley grabs the two hotel issued dressing gowns from their hooks on the wall. Draping one over Aziraphale and throwing the other on himself, he hurries the angel towards the exit door.

“Where will we go?” Aziraphale wheezes, gaze locked on their attacker as it stands and moves in their direction.

“Anywhere but here.” Crowley drags him into the hall and towards the stairwell.


	9. Chapter 9

Wensleydale can’t sleep, so he roams about in Gabriel’s vast library. He wishes he knew where to start, some inkling of what he’s supposed to be looking for to solve the problem at hand. For the most part, it seems he and his human companions are safe. That is except for maybe Adam, who much like the others targeted is half infernal half something else entirely.

His eyes skim across the titles, his fingertips tracing the leather, buckram and cloth as he moves between the shelves. Reaching the end of one of the walls of knowledge nearest the sitting room, the young bespectacled man muses aloud. “Why would anyone want to kill inter-species beings?”

“Racism most likely.” Wensleydale startles at the sudden appearance of someone else. They’re holding a miniature torch which they lift from the pages of the book they were reading and shine it directly into Wensleydale’s eyes. “Wouldn’t really call them inter-species. They’re the same species, just different races of that species.”

“Who’s there?” Wensleydale’s voice cracks against his wishes and he raises a hand to shield his vision from the light hurting his retina’s. “What do you want?”

“Same thing as you, I suppose.” They move the light from the frightened man’s face to their own, revealing themselves as Brian. The light casting spooky shadows across his face from the torch’s position beneath his chin. “Think I found a possible motive, or at least weird connection to history, that might help us figure out who’s offing people. Just wish Isla knew more about her family history. You’d think she would have with a family member like this. Considering they were both into religious studies. Although, I guess philosophy of a religion is a lot different from creatures of a religion.”

Wensleydale steps closer to look at the page Brian is nodding towards. “That the book Aziraphale found earlier?”

“Yeah.” Brian pats the stool next to himself, inviting his friend to sit. “This is honestly a real lucky find, I’m surprised Aziraphale didn’t notice the possible connection.”

“Between Isla’s however many greats grandpa or uncle or whatever great he is to her and the murder of angels and demons?” Wensleydale raises an eyebrow. “You think Isla’s connected with the killings?”

“No.” Brian scrunches his face and shakes his head. “I’m talking about Reginald’s field of study.”

“The Nephilim?” Wensleydale tilts his head side to side considering. “They _were_ inter-species creatures. A bit different from what’s going on here, but I can see how it _might_ be loosely connected. I mean it was a group of children from what were considered a taboo pairing, killed in mass numbers to extinction.” Wensleydale is suddenly overcome with an intense panic. “Do you think God is behind this? She’s changed Her mind on the whole Truce?”

“I’m not gonna exclude it but it seems unlikely.” Brian pats Wensleydale’s arm reassuringly. “If God was restarting the war between sides, I don’t think She’d be so covert about it all. I mean She sent a big flood to off the original group.”

“True.” Wensleydale relaxes. After a few quiet moments of thought he tilts his head and adds. “Besides, if it was God, wouldn’t She go for Adam before anyone else?”

Brian’s mouth falls open slightly as his face goes slack with realization. “Adam is a Nephilim. The only of his kind in the universe.”

“Why are you guys hiding in the dark?” Brian whips the torch’s light to the hallway of doors, from which the question drifted. Pepper leans against the door frame looking only half awake. “Heard noises and got concerned.”

“We couldn’t sleep.” Brian closes the book and walks it back to the shelves.

“Decided to get a jump on research.” Wensleydale adds quickly. “What has you up?”

“Woke up to go to pee and Adam wasn’t in bed.” She walks a meter to the right and flicks on the light switch. “Someone’s already in the loo, so I thought I check the voices I heard out here while I wait.”

“One would think with this many rooms Gabriel would have more than one restroom.” Wensleydale shifts in his seat to face Pepper as she settles on the stool beside him. “Has he fixed the sink? It was still broke last time I was in there, had to wash my hands in the tub faucet.”

“Yeah, it’s fixed. He must’ve miracle it.” Adam steps into the sitting room. “Loo’s open Pep.”

She vanishes through the doorway as someone begins to wildly beat against the door. Crowley calls frantically from the other side. “Let us in! Hurry!”

* * *

Aziraphale looks up and down the hall, praying they haven’t been followed. His neck is sore, and he’s certain bruises are forming from the intensity he’d been strangled. The angel had thought he was going to die there on the floor, his sleeping husband only meters away. His greatest fears in that moment had been for his unborn child and the demon that had laid unknowing in his line of sight. If Crowley hadn’t woken when he did, would the creature have gone for him next?

He clings to Crowley’s waist as the demon beats against the wood and bellows. “Open the Goddamn door!!”

The redhead nearly falls forward as the barrier is yanked away, a confused and messy haired Adam on the other side. Crowley pulls his husband through the door, slamming it behind them and rushes to the flat screen on the opposite wall.

“What are you doing?” Brian watches the demon stalk about the appliance, fishing his fingers behind the electronic and unfasten it from the wall. “And why are you almost naked?”

The question had Aziraphale glancing down at his own dressing gown. To his relief, both of them are fully covered where it matters for decency’s sake at least. “He’s removing the reflective surface. The thing doesn’t only travel through mirrors.”

“What happened to your voice?” Adam faces Aziraphale and fully takes in the angel before him. “Oh my God, Aziraphale, your neck looks like it hurts.”

“Yes.” _Ah, so it is bruised_. The angel clears his throat in hopes of ridding his voice of its phlegmy sound. “It hurts very much. I was just attacked. Drug from my bed and nearly choked to death. Thank God Crowley woke when he did.”

“It came through the telly that time.” Crowley finally pulls the large flat box from the wall and nearly buckles under it’s weight. Looking about the room at his gawking audience, he asks. “Will someone help me put this outside?”

“What came through?” Gabriel steps into the room with Isla and Pepper on his heels. “And where are you taking my television.”

“Explain it to him.” Crowley strains, pushing the set across the floor. He then adds. “Please, Dove. I don’t feel like going over it again.”

“The murderer made another attempt on my life by means of our room’s television set.” Aziraphale holds his stomach protectively and wanders to the sofa. “It seems no reflective surface is safe.”

“Where are your clothes?” Gabriel looks at him in disgust and Aziraphale is reminded of old comments his former boss had thrown at him about being soft.

“He was attacked in his sleep.” Crowley growls, reentering the suite and locking the door. “We fell asleep in the buff, after some marital bonding activities. Didn’t really have time to throw together an outfit. You’re all lucky I took the time to grab what we have.”

“The killer attacked you while you were naked?” It’s Isla’s turn to sound disgusted.

“I don’t think our state of dress really matters to them.” Crowley snaps, falling to his knees in front of Aziraphale. He pulls the angel’s hands away from his face and Aziraphale is met with the softest golden stare. Crowley’s demeanor shifts and the venom leaves his tone. “We’re ok Dove. You’re safe now.”

“Maybe you could miracle yourselves decent?” Gabriel asks.

Crowley shoots him an angry glare and waves his hand. When nothing happens he snaps his fingers, again with no results. “Why can’t I miracle our luggage here?”

“There should be no reason you can’t.” Gabriel snaps his fingers and receives the same results. “Well that’s odd.”

Aziraphale tries as well, nothing. He feels his breathing pick up, the terror settling into him once again. He clutches the sleeve of Crowley’s dressing gown. “What does this mean?”

“Sure, it’s nothing. Just a glitch. We’ll get it sorted out in the morning.” Crowley straightens his robe to cover himself better and stands. “Can we have a room in this inception of a hotel suite?”

“I got that reference.” Gabriel gives them finger guns as Crowley helps Aziraphale to his feet. There is something unsettling about how unaffected the archangel seems by everything. “And yes. Take the room Aziraphale had occupied while recovering from his earlier incident. It’s already free of reflective surfaces.”

“Thank you.” Aziraphale suddenly wishes none of the room’s other inhabitants were aware of their presence. He’d learned long ago, however, to follow his husband’s lead. Crowley is clever and if he feels they should stay here, then Aziraphale will stay. “So sorry to have brought everyone out of bed, I hope you can return to a restful sleep.”

“Fairly certain that’s not going to happen.” Brian looks between the couple in pure bewilderment. “How are you suddenly this calm after nearly dying and losing your powers?”

“Exactly.” Adam looks them over, Aziraphale catches the hint of suspicion in the anti-christ’s gaze. “For all we know, your presence is going to draw whoever or whatever it is killing everyone right here.”

Crowley takes this as an opportunity. “I’ll tell you what. If our presence makes you all uncomfortable, we have a proposition we would like to discuss with you. If we can be granted Adam and Gabriel’s permission, we request to be sent back to earth, with the other angel/demon children and any pregnant beings coupled in the same sorts of unions. Our idea is to get those in the greatest danger out of here.”

“You made an agreement Crowley.” Adam scratches his fingers through his thick curls. “That’s not going to happen. We’re already down too many now.”

“What sort of agreement?” Aziraphale is hit with an apprehension he hasn’t felt towards his husband in a very long time and the emotion is unsettling. “Crowley, what is he talking about?”

Crowley quirks an eyebrow, flicking his gaze to Pepper. Adam’s response is to go still and then stammer out the response. “Crowley swore he’d help see us through this investigation, that’s all. But it might be a good idea to send you, Aziraphale, home along with all the children and the other pregnant angels and demons. I see no sense in sending the non-expecting halves of those unions home though.”

“I’m going with Adam on this one.” Gabriel steps to Aziraphale. “We might accidentally send the culprit back to earth. And if we send Crowley back and not the other non-expecting partners home, it’s going to cause us even more chaos.” He raises his hands slowly while he scans the principality’s throat. “May I heal that for you?”

“No.” Aziraphale steps away. “I’m fine. It’s nothing Crowley or I can’t handle.”

“I agree with Crowley.” Brian provides. “The beings he mentioned aren’t likely to be the culprit at all. By keeping them here, we’re only putting them all in danger.”

“What about a vote then?” Wensleydale offers. “Not one we will make tonight, but tomorrow after Michael and Hastur join us. Something unanimous.”

“I like that.” Crowley tugs Aziraphale toward the hall.

“That seems more than fair.” Pepper looks to her husband and there is a warning in her gaze. “Don’t you think?”

“Yeah.” The ant-christ’s words drip with reluctance. “I guess.”

“That does seem to fit the system we’ve built for ourselves in the truce.” Gabriel muses, no more excited about the prospect than Adam. “Go rest, we’ll call for a vote in the afternoon and I’ll make sure someone from the lobby has your things here by morning.”

“Good night then.” Aziraphale calls behind him as he is pulled through the door and down the hall. As soon as they are out of earshot of the others he whispers to his husband. “What’s your actual plan?”

“You get rest, I set up tonight and keep watch. In the morning we’ll have a vote and worst-case scenario, you go home safe.”

“Crowley!” Aziraphale stops mid step and forces his demon to face him. “That is not an option.”

“We’re not doing this again, Angel.” Crowley cups Aziraphale’s face with his hands. “I’m trying for the way you want it, but if that doesn’t pan out at least I’m getting you out of here.”

“Well maybe if you hadn’t offered to save every other couple as well.” Aziraphale can feel the heat of his anger flushing his cheeks. “In the room you said only you, me and the children. Gabriel and Adam might have gone for that, but you had to be self-sacrificing like always.”

“How am I being self-sacrificing?” Crowley half forces Aziraphale to follow him down the hall and pulls him through their newly assigned bedroom door. Closing it behind them, he releases the angel’s hand and takes a seat on the bed. “It wouldn’t be fair to leave all those others behind.”

“If you won’t be selfish for yourself, could you have at least been selfish for me and our child?” Aziraphale huffs, refusing to go near his husband. Crowley can be so infuriating at times. For all his old talk of evil ways, he’s too good and cares too much about too many. “Frankly, you make me feel like a terrible angel.”

“Don’t do that. Don’t start with the guilt.” Crowley growls, pulling the thin cloth of the dressing gown more tightly around himself. “It’s not my fault you’re indulgent and self-serving. Risking our child’s life to stubbornly stand here by my side. I love you and I appreciate it, but I never knew you to be that selfish of a bastard.”

“I beg your pardon?” Aziraphale feels the tears starting to burn his eyes. “How do you consider my wanting to stand by my husband in a time of danger selfish?”

“Don’t be daft, Aziraphale.” Crowley’s eyes are piercing, and his words burn at the angel’s core. “We both know your unwillingness to leave spawns from a selfish need to not risk living alone in this universe without me. I get it, I’m the same, but we’ve now created someone that matters more than either of us. It’s our responsibility to sacrifice what we want for their well-being.”

“Fine.” Aziraphale knows Crowley to be correct but in this moment he doesn’t have it in him to concede jovially. “You win, you’re right. The worldly demon, former star-maker. The broken hero who always knows so much more than the selfish-spoiled principality. Who am I but the lucky nobody who gets the privilege of standing beside the living embodiment of the phoenix in our newly built society?”

“What the fuck?” Crowley watches wide-eyed as Aziraphale circles to the opposite side of the bed and begins to construct a barrier of pillows between them. “Where did this come from? There are lots of angels and demons who respect you. We dealt with an extremely overzealous one this evening.”

“Yes, lucky me.” Aziraphale flops onto his side, facing away from his demon. “I get the prejudiced pricks, who see me as a damsel in distress to be saved from the fearsome snake. You get the Pahliah’s who credit you for teaching them to break boundaries, better themselves through understanding, and strive to create a better existence for all. Perhaps I should surrender myself to a life of mere child-bearer and pretty side accessory to the great Serpent of Eden. The brave and heroic demon Crowley.”

“Angel?” The hurt in Crowley’s voice causes something in Aziraphale’s heart to clamp but only slightly. It is soon overpowered by his uncharacteristic wave of anger. He feels the demon’s hand reach over the barrier and lay on his shoulder. “I’m sorry if I’ve ever done anything to make you feel this way.”

“Not now, Crowley.” Aziraphale jerks from his husband’s touch. “Not everything is necessarily caused by you. If you’ve taught me anything this evening, it’s that my world shouldn’t revolve around you. I’m going to sleep, this will all be better in the morning.”

“Yeah.” The demon’s voice cracks. “Goodnight Angel.”

* * *

They stare into the full-length mirror they’ve been keeping in the well-used room. A spell had been placed on the object to keep it hidden from other beings whether human, angelic, demonic or a mixture of such. They wait for their associate to appear, to ask what went wrong this time. Finally, a dark figure emerges into view.

“You failed me again.” The summoner states, growing weary of the other's shortcomings. “We agreed to help one another and you continue to disappoint me.”

“I’ve achieved great strides in what you’ve asked of me.” The cloaked figure raises their head, revealing to the summoner a steady stare. “I’ve destroyed one who had stood in our way and two of the tainted creatures. One of which you failed to destroy on your own.”

“How was I to know her husband would interfere?” The summoner runs their fingers through their hair. “You continue to fail with Aziraphale and Crowley. Due to that, we may lose our chances to destroy the others.”

“There are things you can do to prevent that?” The summoned asks. “Are there not?”

“There are, but I don’t want to give away too much of myself too early. I’ve just removed their ability to miracle.” The summoner bites their lip. “I’m afraid they’ll discover me too soon if I let slip that someone here still has abilities.”

“If I may ask, why Prince Beelzebub?” The mirror’s inhabitant tilts their head “Neither of us have had any grief from them.”

“They were willing to participate in romantic relations with angels.” The summoner informs their cohort. "But that was honestly just a happy addition to my original intent, which was to cause a bigger rift between the sides."

"You could've hurt him." It's the first time the summoned sounds dangerous to their partner. "He's mine to decide the fate of. You are not to touch him."

"I didn't think he would be there." The summoner drops their gaze. "I'm sorry."

“I’ll do better, attack others throughout the night. There will be many more gone by morning.” The robed being bows. “I’ll make them remember the cruelty they had inflicted on the children, you and your family and the hypocrisy of how they live now. I’ll save my own vengeance until tomorrow.”

“Thank you, I assure you they won’t escape.” The summoner bows in turn. “I promised you Crowley’s suffering and you’ll have it.”

“And you still hold true to the oath that I may be returned to my full power?” The summoned pauses before turning away. “And that he will be returned to me?”

“You have my word.” They watch the robed figure disappear from sight before ensuring the wards are in place to keep their mirror hidden. Sneaking quietly from the room, they hurry back to their own and slip into bed making sure they wake no one else along their way.


	10. Chapter 10

Each floor of the hotel is a large rectangle loop with a solid wall in the center. This allows for each of the suite’s to have balconies looking out onto portions of the shoreline and shops below. Oddly enough, both Hastur’s and Michael’s rooms were located on the same floor. Michael’s to the right of the lift, six doors down and Hastur’s to the left of the lift, around the corner to the right where the hall bends, and then two doors down. She had made the joke of practically walking him to his room anyway as she had waved goodnight and disappeared behind her door.

Now, with the first hints of orange and gold illuminating the sky beyond his balcony, Hastur lay across his bed pondering as he had throughout the long night. He hadn’t even troubled himself with turning down the thin blanket or changing his clothes. Sleep is something he doesn’t need, so he’s decided to take this bit of quiet time to think.

“Who would want to kill Muriel or Sandalphon?” The sound of his own voice breaking the silence does a little something to calm his nerves. He considers his own question and finds the answer obvious. “Okay, maybe lots of people, the three of us could be right pricks at times. But the others, they didn’t really have it coming, they’s just bloody goody, goody pains in the arses.”

He runs through the lists of suspects. There are the humans, but really what could a human possibly have against or be able to do against celestial and infernal beings? Not a whole Heaven of a lot. Unless they are a witch or something and the only witch that lot knew had settled down to raise a family. Left the witchin’ business from what Hastur had heard.

“Well the hellspawn could take us on, but he’s got no powers here. Never has had.” Hastur muses aloud again. “Seems to only have powers on Hell and earth.”

Hastur realizes that this bit of information is curious. Why would the antichrist lose his powers in Heaven? Demons don’t lose their powers in Heaven. He’ll need to discuss that with someone tomorrow.

Then there’s the flash bastard and his overly bright, skittish, chubby, preggo pigeon but they don’t seem the type either. Too peace lovin’. Even when Crowley had been employed as a proper demon, he was to good for his own……well good.

The most likely answer is it’s a random resort goer…. _is that a phrase?_ Visitor? _Who knows?_ “But if that’s the case, we’re royally screwed on whittling this down before the situation goes off the rails.”

So, now he’s down to the two archangels, Gabriel is Hastur’s first choice. Cold and self-centered. Right bastard in all honesty. “Was tryin’ to court Prince Beelzebub and wasn’t even upset when they melted directly in front of him.”

He finds it strange that none of the lot suspect him. “I mean, not a one of ‘um know about me and Muriel. Maybe it’s the me being friends with Sandalphon and cool with Beelzebub thing that puts me in a good light.”

If Hastur is being truthful, Michael is the only one left he actually kind of likes. Which is especially shocking for him, considering he’s been jealous of her for centuries. No reason mind you, Ligur was never unfaithful.

He wonders if she’s still awake. After millennia of not trusting her intentions with his partner, he’d never given her much of a chance. But Ligur had seemed to trust her professionally, and she’d been alright by him and Prince Beelzebub, so maybe ol’ wank wings wasn’t so bad,….. er good.

Hastur pushes himself up from the bed and walks over to his balcony. From his perch at the railing he has a view of the fountain, the park and the large dancehall. He tilts his head to the side, catching sight of Gabriel and a small team of angelic staff busily draining the fountain. It appears they’ve stopped the steady flow of water coming into the concrete structure and have dried the area completely.

A troubling question crosses the Duke of Hell’s mind and he doesn’t even notice himself again speaking the words out loud. “Does the fountain run on a separate water system from the rest of the resort? Or is all the water possibly contaminated?”

Seems the sort of thing to ask after. Not that there’s really any demons left he gives a flying fuck about, but as a frog he does need to make contact with the stuff periodically for his own comfort.

He’s watching the scene and wishing he wasn’t twelve stories up so that he might better be able to hear the conversation below, when he spots her. It’s Uriel, with her flawless skin, cheeks highlighted with gold freckles and shining in the low morning glow. She’s not supposed to be here, she and Dagon, according to rumors, having stayed behind in Paradise by choice.

Something akin to loyal rage for his former Prince burns hot in his stomach. Uriel who had stolen Beelzebub’s long-time partner, now has the gall to show up the day after their death and actually hover around where their last moments of suffering were spent!

Hastur sneers down at her and the other archangel at her side with contempt, not that either of them seem to realize it’s happening. He shouldn’t be as surprised as he is that Gabriel seems not at all concerned with his choice of company. The cold-hearted twat consorting with someone like that on such, dare he use the word, sacred turf.

The demon decides to pay a visit to Michael. She’ll understand the cruel unfaithfulness of Gabriel and Uriel’s actions. He snatches his key card from the nightstand and hustles into the hall. He is just about to turn the corner when he hears two femalish voices from the outskirts of his vision. For reasons even he doesn’t understand, instinct tells him to stop and listen.

“He sent word to you when?” That voice is Michael’s. Hastur leans his body against the wall and waits.

“Yesterday morning.” Hastur sneers in disgust. He knows that voice as well! Why the fuck is Dagon here too? “We would have been here sooner, but we had to get Eric set up to run Paradise. He’s stretched a bit thin running both there and Hell but he understands that this is a dire situation.”

“So, you only just arrived?” Michael sounds angry and skeptical and Hastur respects her all the more for her vicious tone. “Do you have proof that you haven’t been here longer? An arrival log or any one to corroborate?”

“Are you trying to accuse me of something?”

“What do you think?” Michael quips and Hastur cautiously peeks around the wall to look at the angel and demon. Michael’s hair is disheveled, she looks as though she’s been crying, dressed in slate blue pajamas and wrapped in a matching dressing gown. The archangel glares menacingly at the Lord of Files from her half open doorway and Hastur wonders if she might smite the demon before her. He knows he won’t blame or snitch her out for it if she does.

“Gabriel told me I could stay here with you until he and Uriel sort out everything at the fountain.” Dagon’s lower jaw juts out. “So can I come in?”

“I’m sorry to inform you that Gabriel was wrong in that assumption.” Michael snaps back. “You can join them outside if you please or find your way to his suite on the top floor. But you're definitely not welcome here with me.”

“The fountain is dangerous for me until they verify it’s fixed.” Dagon sounds almost pleading and neither Hastur nor Michael are buying the sincerity of her supposed desperation. “And he and Uriel agreed the others upstairs might react poorly to my arrival, due to, well the most recent death combined with my…. well you know. _Transgressions_ against them.”

“And Gabriel thought I wouldn’t!?” Michael rubs her face and backs into her room. “I can’t believe I took orders as long as I did from that unloving asshole.”

“Fine, I hear Hastur’s on this floor.” Dagon bares her teeth. “I’ll stay with him.”

_No you won’t!_

“No you won’t.” Michael barks with a steely sternness. “He’s been through a horrible ordeal. He won’t talk about it, so I’m not sure what’s causing his pain, but I could feel the mix of love and agony emitting from him. You and everyone else will leave him to himself until he’s ready to talk.”

“When’d you get so soft for demons?” Dagon tilts her head, her smirk showing off long pointed teeth. “Well all demons but me anyway.”

“Go upstairs or to the fountain. I’m going back to my own private space until I’m forced to deal with you this afternoon.” And with that, Michael slams the door in Dagon’s face.

The Lord of Files turns and begins to move in Hastur’s direction, resulting in the Duke of Hell bolting back into his quarters and securing all the locks behind him. Michael is right, he doesn’t want to talk to anyone. Not that he’s ever had anything personal against Dagon, but her and her new partner’s appearances now are suspect and he’d rather not get mixed up in all that.

He goes back to his balcony, leaning on the railing, watching the angels work below, ignoring Dagon’s knocks on his door and remaining entirely unaware of the hooded figure watching him from the reflection of his television set.

* * *

Crowley doesn’t sleep. He sets against the headboard of the bed watching and listening. The majority of his focus is on a sleeping angel across the wall of pillows. He wants to reach for Aziraphale, beg his husband for forgiveness but he’ll wait until morning. His Angel needs his rest, now more than ever.

_If you’ve taught me anything this evening, it’s that my world shouldn’t revolve around you._ The angel's words echo in his head. Crowley wants Aziraphale’s world to revolve around him as his world revolves around Aziraphale. But he also wants his husband safe, and perhaps there is a bit of selfishness in that.

“Ok, a lot of selfishness.” Crowley murmurs and the angel shifts in his sleep. “I’m afraid Aziraphale.” He continues, quietly so as not to disturb his husband but he hopes Aziraphale registers what he’s saying on a subconscious level. “ _I’m_ the one who is terrified of being permanently separated from _you_. That’s why I always popped in to save you. Not because I thought you had no chance of handling those situations yourself, but there was always that risk.” He titters his head from side to side. “If you would be honest with yourself, you did have no chance in the Bastille in 1793 or the church in 1941. You were willing to discorporate instead of disobey orders. And if we continue to be honest with ourselves, you were already in so much trouble after the Eden fiasco, a discorporation would have very likely meant a permanent desk job and no return to earth.”

Unable to resist, Crowley reaches his hand across Aziraphale’s pillow barrier and lightly flits his fingers around soft curls. “I owed you, Angel. Was my fault you got demoted in the first place and on top of that, I wouldn’t have survived here if I never was able to see you again. Even in 1793, I would’ve stormed Heaven and been doused in holy water or some other means of divine punishment before I would’ve given you up.”

“I’m so sorry Dove, I never meant for you to feel like a side accessory to me.” The demon blinks and tears stream across his sharp cheekbones. “I try to seem so cool, but you make me an utter and total mess. I want you safe, I want the life I created with you safe, but I can’t handle you seeing me as the enemy. It was always so painful when you did in the past and now that you haven’t for two decades, I’m terrified that it’s happening again. You’re the strong one, not me, never been me.”

He’s full on sobbing now. “How do I make the world see that? That you’re the warrior, the strength and I am nothing more than your shield.”

“Crowley darling.” Aziraphale whimpers and rolls to face his husband. The demon loses his breath at the sight of watery blue eyes. “I do not think you’re the enemy, I haven’t since 1020 ADE, no matter what ridiculous propaganda I regurgitated at you throughout the centuries.”

“I’m sorry I’m selfish, that I suffocate you.” Crowley carefully removes the pillows and Aziraphale doesn’t stop him. “I love you so much, please understand. I’ll try to do better, don’t love me less because of it, please.”

“I could never love you less, my sweet husband.” Aziraphale opens his arms wide and Crowley falls into the embrace. “My world will always revolve around you and our child, no matter what angry things I said. I most definitely _do not_ wish to leave your side if it can be helped, but.” The angel releases a shaky breath. “if I am given no other choice, I will take myself and our little one back to earth and to safety.”

“Thank you.” Crowley places a quick peck to the angel’s soft lips. “Thank you.” Kiss, he’s never felt such relief. “Thank you.” Another kiss, this one lingering and Crowley slides his hands along the back of Aziraphale’s neck. He pulls back lifting his head when his Angel hisses in pain.

“Sorry darling.” Aziraphale indicates his bruised neck. “Still rather sore.”

“Sorry Dove. Let me heal you.” Crowley hovers his hands just above the injury and draws at his essence for the power. Nothing happens. “Fuck, that’s right. Powers missing.”

“Oh, right.” Aziraphale sighs, disappointment showing. The look quickly transfers to one of fear. “Gabriel offered to heal me too.”

“Yeah?” Crowley bites his lip, Aziraphale hasn’t trusted Gabriel in the entirety of the Truce. “The big goofy bastard is always falling over himself to be helpful over the past eighteen years. What of it?”

“No, dearest.” Aziraphale shakes his head and crinkles his forehead. “He offered to heal me _after_ we realized our powers were gone.”

“I literally just did the very same thing Angel.”

“Yes, you did after a rather upsetting argument with your spouse and several hours of worry.” Aziraphale stares at him with an almost palpable intensity. “But Gabriel tried to heal me within moments of the discovery.”

Crowley almost hates playing devil’s advocate, but he’s blessed good at it. Besides, even if Aziraphale is right (which he very often is) looking at all the angles helps to give them both a better view. Tamp down on a lot of biases. “Yeah, like I said, big, goofy bastard. He probably forgot three seconds after it happened. He’s not the brightest bulb in the chandelier.”

“Do you honestly believe the nonsense you’re spouting right now dearest?” Something flashes through Aziraphale’s eyes and Crowley registers that he might be unintentionally leading them towards another fight.

“I’m not saying it’s _not_ him Angel.” Crowley pushes himself onto his left elbow so that he can trace the fingers of his right hand along Aziraphale’s face. “And I one hundred and ten percent agree that we need to be wary of the asshole. We just can’t get so stuck on the idea of him being our only suspect, that we end up putting our guard down and in doing so put ourselves in danger if the killer happens to be someone else.”

“You talk like you don’t think I’m going to be leaving all this chaos behind by the end of the day.” Aziraphale cups the sides of Crowley’s face and the demon can see the fear on the angel’s own.

Crowley responds by speaking Aziraphale’s fears into the room. “No, I talk like I don’t think I will, and if I’m to eventually get back to you, I can’t trust anyone.”

Aziraphale pulls Crowley’s forehead to rest against his. “In case that is what happens, and I may not see you again until all of this is over.” He reaches between them and pulls open both of their dressing gowns, allowing warm skin to press into warm skin. “I think you need to apologize to me fully and properly.”

“Yes, I definitely owe you that.” Crowley kisses his angel reverently. He flings aside his dressing gown as Aziraphale wiggles beneath him also sliding out of his.

Once both are free of what very little clothing they have, Crowley pushes Aziraphale onto his back and dives into a gentle but impassioned kiss. He skims his hands along Aziraphale’s side and thanks anyone who is listening that he has been given this gift.

“I love you.” Crowley breathes over soft pink lips as he breaks the kiss and slides his lips along Aziraphale’s jaw. “Thank you for putting up with me. For forgiving me. For dealing with my clinginess. Thank you for understanding how much I need you.”

“I love you too Crowley.” Aziraphale gasps as Crowley’s mouth carefully ghosts over his bruised throat, along his chest, until a clever forked tongue and soft lips begin to play at his hardened nipples. “I know how frightened you are. I’m certain it’s as much as I’m afraid. Won’t you…ahhh.. won’t you forgive me as well for the hateful things I said?”

Crowley pulls from his work, nuzzling the perky mound with his nose. “Forgiven, never gonna stay mad at you for loving me.”

Aziraphale nods and lays his head back against the pillow opening his legs wider so as to enjoy this full experience. Of course there are many times Aziraphale takes charge, but moments like this when he relinquishes all control to Crowley are some of the demon’s favorites. His Angel trusting Crowley so thoroughly with his body and his pleasure, makes Crowley feel more powerful than anything he’s ever experienced.

He kisses along Aziraphale’s soft stomach and if he pushes a little more love than usual into the gentle acts of adoration, well who’s to judge him?

Aziraphale’s hip jerk upward as Crowley’s mouth trails along his hips and over his soft mound. The angel moans when Crowley’s tongue, now fully forked, teases it’s way past the folds of Aziraphale’s slick heat and skims upward to lap playfully at his clit.

Crowley’s concentration is nearly broken by a sharp knock at their bedroom door. He, however, chooses to ignore the intrusion and doubles his efforts on the hardening bit of flesh inside his mouth. As he slips two fingers into his husband’s vulva he hears Aziraphale stammer loudly. “I’m s-sorry. We… (softly)oh God Crowley….Heh… (louder again)We are a bit occupied at the moment!”

“Got your luggage out here!” Isla call back in return.

“Wonderful……(softer)Heaven help me Crowley your mouth is glorious…..(Louder)Just leave it there, we will collect it shortly!”

Crowley feels as Aziraphale’s legs tense, the absolute dripping slickness of the angel’s cunt and he knows his lover is close to coming.

“Okay! Gabriel is calling for a group meeting!”

“Yes! Yes!” Aziraphale throws his head back, his fingers curl in the demon’s red hair as he pulls his lover more fully into his aching cunt. “ (softly)Fuck yeeessss….oooooo…..Fuck me with that pretty mouth Crowley….(Louder)Off …..Off with you now!”

Seconds later Aziraphale loses all semblance of holding himself together and screams Crowley’s name with no inhibition. The demon feels the Angel clench around his tongue, fingers, nose and lips as Aziraphale tugs at his hair, riding Crowley’s face and fingers through his pleasure.

As Aziraphale lay panting, fully descended from his pleasure, Crowley slithers once again up his torso and rests his head on his husband’s shoulder. “I love you.”

“I love you too darling.” Aziraphale attempts to calm the fiery locks that he is responsible for making a muss. “Should we tend to you now that you’ve been so gracious to me.”

“No time!” Both supernatural entities startle at Isla’s voice once again shouting through the bedroom door. “Gabriel wants everyone in the sitting room in ten minutes! There’ve been more deaths during the night!”

“Why are you still creeping outside our door!” Crowley snarls, a bit of his old self coming through. But who could blame him for being protective over the privacy of his, albeit temporary, nest.

“I’m sorry!” And the poor human sounds it, Crowley is quickly regretting snapping. “But Gabriel said to hurry you along, to not come back without you both, because the current incident is much worse than the others.”

Crowley pushes himself from the bed and his husband’s embrace. He grabs up his dressing gown from the floor and wraps it securely around himself. The demon glances to Aziraphale to make sure the angel is also covered before opening the door. “How is it worse?”

“Three hundred and twenty-one demon deaths have been reported so far, five hundred and seventy-two angel deaths.” Isla’s eyes are wide and watery, tears roll down her pale, freckled cheeks. Her next sentence comes out a bit choked. “And close to a hundred and thirty children of angel and demon descent.”

“Oh God.” Aziraphale gasps. Winding the bed sheet around himself, he rushes to Crowley’s side. “That’s horrible.”

“Yeah.” She hands them their bags and before Crowley shuts the door she adds. “And heads up before we go out there, everyone else is in a state. One of the dead angels is Michael.”


	11. Chapter 11

“Thank you, Isla.” Crowley accepts the bags from the young woman. “We won’t make you wait too long.”

As his husband closes the bedroom door, Aziraphale stumbles across the room and crumples onto the edge of the bed. “One thousand and twenty-three lives.”

“I know, Angel.” Crowley drops the luggage onto the floor beside him and kneels between Aziraphale’s legs.

“Do you suppose all of them were with child?” Aziraphale rambles, his brain trying desperately to make sense of it all and failing.

“I don’t know Dove.” Crowley takes the angel’s hands and holds them against his heart. “But based on the sadistic fuck’s previous acts, I’d wager most of the adults were, and perhaps a few of the teens.”

“Oh!” Aziraphale can feel his heart shattering thinking of all those extinguished souls. “Those poor children!” He clings to his husband’s hands. “So many heartbroken parents and spouses.”

“I know, Angel.” Crowley rises and takes a seat next to his fretting husband and frees one hand so as to wrap his arm around him. Aziraphale can hear the way his demon’s voice wavers. “I can’t Imagine. I’m hoping to never find out.”

“You won’t.” Aziraphale reassures him, leaning into Crowley’s strong embrace. “I’ll be going home, to our cottage, before the end of the day. I’m still praying you’ll come with me. We’ll set up wards and stay safely inside preparing for the arrival of our little one.”

“And if they vote that I can’t?” Crowley’s unshaded eyes search Aziraphale’s face, and the Angel knows his love’s fears. As much as they’ve been back and forth over this the past couple days, Crowley is frightened he might once again change his mind and not go home.

“Then I’ll put up the wards myself and I’ll miracle up a new room upstairs near ours.” Aziraphale lifts his face to kiss his sweetheart’s jaw. “But I will expect you home before our tiny bundle makes their grand debut. I don’t want to go through this pregnancy alone dear.”

“I’ll be there, Dove. Wouldn’t miss it for the world” Crowley returns Aziraphale’s kiss with one to the Angel’s lips.

“Swear it. You have to make it back to me Crowley. Don’t leave me behind. Rebel against Heaven and Hell again if you think the outcome might be anything other than you returning to me safely.” Aziraphale buries his face in Crowley’s neck and hugs him close.

“I swear to Satan, God and Adam Young if that’s what you need.” Crowley leaves one last kiss in his Angel’s hair, then breaks from the embrace to stand. “But I also want to be sure that you and everyone else have no future threats to fear.”

Crowley has always prided himself on his organizational skills, so it is very easy for him to find what they needed from the multiple bags. Within five minutes time, both entities are dressed and as ready as they can be to face what is awaiting them.

When the angel, demon and human step into the sitting room, the first thing Aziraphale notices are the two new arrivals. Uriel stands as well postured as ever, always emitted an aura of unwavering strength and bravery. (Crowley had tried telling him otherwise, claiming that the day of Aziraphale’s trials he had made even Uriel jump back in fear. It is an image Aziraphale just can’t conjure in comparison to the archangel he is accustomed to.) Clinging to Uriel’s arm and standing slightly behind her, is Dagon.

Gabriel is to the opposite of Uriel from Dagon and the trio seem to be the focus of a rather aggressive interrogation.

“You’re telling me, the former long-time lover of one of the deceased is here. Along with the angel she cheated on Beelzebub with, then broke their heart for. _The day after their death_.” Pepper emphasizes that last sentence while pointing an accusing finger in Dagon’s direction. “And then the angel that tried to pick up the pieces you left behind, is dead the very morning you show and none of us are supposed to be suspicious of that?”

“Gabriel called us here.” Uriel keeps her expression cold apparently attempting to stare down the human.

Pepper is _NOT_ one to be intimidated. “Yeah, yesterday morning from what I understand. Within an hour of the first murder. Adam and I were with him when he made the call. Teleporting yourself from one realm to the other takes a matter of ninety seconds to accomplish. What were you doing with the other twenty-three hours and fifty-seven and a half minutes?”

“Trying to train a group of Eric’s to run Paradise properly.” Dagon adds to the conversation keeping herself hidden behind her archangel defender. “It’s not the kind of place to run itself and the little demon is spread between there and Hell. It took some time to get everything running smooth.”

“Sounds like bullshit to me.” The human counters, very open with her aggressive distrust of the new arrivals.

“Come on, Pep.” Adam positions himself behind his wife and lays a hand on her shoulder. “It makes a lot of sense and you’re being really unfair. It’s angel/demon unions being attacked and they are an angel/demon union.”

“Yeah, and you know all about spouting bullshit, don’t ya hellspawn?” Hastur chimes in. “Been lying to your own wife the past twenty-four hours at least. This something you do often?”

“Excuse me?” Pepper turns her attention from Uriel and Dagon to place it fully on Adam. “What bullshit have you been feeding me exactly?”

“None.” Adam glares at Hastur, commanding with his eyes for the demon to shut up. “He’s always causing drama. Did it just yesterday with Aziraphale and Crowley.”

“It’s not fair.” Hastur growls. “All these beings putting their trust so whole heartedly into spouses that lie and/or cheat behind their backs and then misuse ‘em to their faces. Then when a halfway decent, albeit much less attractive, demon comes about tryin’ to show ‘em some love they accept, but only a little. They use the one that’s good to ‘em and then toss him aside to run back to their wanker of a spouse.”

“What in Satan’s name does your personal issues with Muriel have to do with Aziraphale and Crowley?” Dagon, in her curiosity steps from behind her Uriel shaped shield. “Don’t tell me you’re fucking the principality too.”

“I would never!” Aziraphale startles at the odd accusation and the way Crowley turns to look at him, eyes large and wild. He holds his hands palm out in front of himself while shaking his head at the bewildering thought. “Darling you know I would never.”

“Eeewwww.” Hastur looks as disgusted as Aziraphale feels. “Fuck no, I wouldn’t touch that soft, snooty little trollop. Just felt sorry for him, the snake lying to him and all.”

“Crowley?” Aziraphale’s body language turns from the defense to offense, his demon’s does the same in reverse. “What would Hastur believe you are lying to me about?”

“Nothing, Angel.” Crowley snaps his fingers then becomes even more agitated as nothing happens. “He’s just trying to cause trouble again.”

“Did you just try a miracle?” Aziraphale pulls his head back and crosses his arms over his chest.

“Yeah, forgot I couldn’t.” Crowley’s unhidden eyes dart everywhere but Aziraphale’s

“You said that Adam’s been lying to me too.” Pepper pulls her attention away from the other arguing spouses to focus on her own.

“Like Crowley said.” Adam is able to look directly at Pepper and actually sound sincere. “Hastur’s a bully. Wants to start trouble is all.”

“What were you trying to miracle, Crowley?” Aziraphale already knows. Crowley isn’t able to lie to him the way that Adam can obviously lie to Pepper. His eyes always give him away.

“It’s not important, Angel.” The demon drops his gaze to the floor.

“Oh, I think it’s _very_ important Crowley.” Aziraphale’s tone has a bite and he notices the way it makes Crowley flinch. “Because I know you were trying to bring forth your sunglasses to shield your eyes. I was just hoping you would admit to that, making it one less thing you’re obviously keeping from me.”

“Is no one else going to react to the fact that Dagon just spilled, Hastur was having sexual relations with one of the victims? Like that’s not _THE_ most important bit information that’s been spouted here?” Gabriel throws his arms out in an incredulous gesture, his voice raising in pitch and volume. “Hold up! The baby was your’s, not Mastiel’s, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah, it was.” Hastur’s anger seems to fizzle and is replaced with a lost melancholy. “She claimed Mastiel wasn’t treating her right. Turns out she was just a conniving asshole who wanted me to think she cared about me, when all she really wanted was to try a little demon ass.”

“And you’re the best she could do?” Crowley quirks an eyebrow, looking his former boss over in confusion.

“I don’t think that’s your biggest concern right now.” Aziraphale’s voice is almost venomous and Crowley whips his head back around to face his husband. “I’ll ask only one more time. _What_ have you been lying to me about?”

“Nah, we’re not playing it like this.” Hastur shakes his head with a smirk. Moving across the room, he settles himself onto one of the barstools and leans back onto the bar, throwing his arms across the polished wood and resting them there. The Duke nods to Aziraphale. “The reason Master Young don’t want your husband going back with you is because he made all of us that were on the outside legwork team swear to use ourselves as bait for the killer. Crowley included.”

“Is this true Crowley?” Aziraphale steps away from his husband, watching as the demon closes his eyes and seems to emotionally turn in on himself. “Did you agree to something so catastrophically foolish?”

Crowley takes a deep breath. Lifting his head, he opens his eyes and takes a step towards Aziraphale, reaching out to him. “I’m sorry, Angel, but it needs to be done. We need to catch this person before they can hurt you again.”

“No.” Aziraphale steps back further from Crowley’s reach and the demon drops his hand away. “I have never known you to lie to me Crowley. Not _ever_. Has your fame gone so far to your head, that you think my opinion doesn’t matter anymore? That everything is all about you and you alone?”

“Aziraphale, you’re overreacting?” Crowley bites the inside of his mouth and rolls his head back.

“Am I?” _The attitude of him!_ “Well, if you can go about making decisions about your safety without consulting me, then I can very well do the same. If for some reason the vote today says you are not going home with me, then I stick by my original resolve. I’m staying until the culprit is caught as well.”

“Aziraphale, that’s not fair.” Crowley levels his head to face the blond. “We agreed that it would be selfish to-“

“Furthermore.” Aziraphale continues, the ire inside of him rising to a rarely seen level. He’s only been this angry a handful of times in his existence and when he is it makes him lose track of nearly everything around him. “ _When_ I do stay, I will be where you are, if you want me to stay in this room to do research, then you will be by my side. If you insist on going out and using yourself as bait, then I shall be out there dangling from that hook as well.”

“You’re being ridiculous.” Crowley lays a hand on Aziraphale’s bicep and the angel sees red.

“Don’t you tell me what I am and don’t you dare tell me what I can and cannot do.” Aziraphale jerks away. Looking to everyone in the room but Crowley. “Take your vote, I’ll be back in my room waiting for the results.” Turning back to Crowley, he tries to fight the tears of rage that threaten to fall. “And if they decide you are to stay, I’m giving you an ultimatum. Let me stay as well with no argument or don’t bother ever coming back to me at all. Because I will not be you’re lackey to order around.”

“Aziraphale you’re blowing this way out of proportion.” Crowley blinks rapidly fighting back his own tears.

“I married a demon who viewed me as a partner, an equal. Until you can bring me that demon back, I don’t want the one currently before me. Make your decision wisely, Crowley” Aziraphale spins on his heels and storms to the room in which less than an hour before he had happily made love.

* * *

Crowley can’t move. Surely he didn’t hear Aziraphale correctly. In the past, no matter how upset or angry the angel had been with him, Aziraphale had never threatened to leave Crowley. Well, not since Armageddon that is.

That night at the bandstand had, until this moment, become a distant memory in the back of Crowley’s mind. Crowley begging Aziraphale to run away with him, to escape the danger looming ahead and find somewhere, anywhere they could just be together. The demon still remembering the pain caused by that rejection and his anger at Aziraphale for choosing to stay and fight for everyone but him.

_Fuck_. Crowley drops his head and clasps his hands into his hair. _That’s exactly what I’m doing to him now. He’s right, I’ve let the idea of me finally being a hero, somebody respected and redeemed go to my head. Putting my sense of duty ahead of him and our side. I’ve become everything I convinced him that he didn’t need to be._

“Look guys, sort yourselves out.” Crowley addresses the small crowd watching him in stunned silence. “My vote is to follow him home and his is the same. I need to be with my husband right now. When you have your results, let us both know what you’ve decided.”

He doesn’t wait for Gabriel or Adam to give him permission to leave. Crowley saunters in the direction Aziraphale had just gone, stopping long enough in the hall’s entryway to add over his shoulder. “If we both do stay, Adam, I’ll help you with the investigation anyway that I can, but I’m backing out of my promise to be used as bait. I made someone of more importance promises eighteen years ago, and those vows matter more to me than any promises I’ve ever made to you or the Truce.”

He hears the chatter and debate start again the moment he’s out of their sight. This whole ordeal has become a horrible mess. He’ll never be able to get Aziraphale to come to these functions again, not if he can’t fix the trust between them. Then his heart drops as he realizes _. I may not have him to ask to go anywhere with me again, if I can’t fix what I’ve just broken._

Reaching the bedroom, Crowley is grateful to find that the door is unlocked. Grabbing the handle, he enters cautiously and peeks his head inside to make certain he’s welcome right now. “Angel?”

Aziraphale lays curled in the fetal position on the bed. At Crowley’s arrival, he pushes himself to a seated position against the headboard. Wiping the tears from his flushed face, the angel responds. “Have they completed the vote already?”

“Nah.” Crowley doesn’t think this sounds like a request for him to leave, so he slips fully into the room and closes the door behind him. He doesn’t approach just yet and instead leans with his back against the door. The last thing he wants is for Aziraphale to feel as if the demon is pushing into his space. “Told them mine and your vote was for us both to go home and that being with you right now is more important than being out there with them.”

Aziraphale nods and keeps his eyes focused on his hands. The principality picks nervously at his fingernails. “The last thing I want is to lose you, but somedays I feel like I already have. So, what I said out there shouldn’t be taken with a grain of salt.”

Crowley notices the fresh tears dripping from his husband’s sweet face and onto plump, fidgeting fingers. His own eyes begin to burn with the understanding that he, Crowley the Serpent of Eden, is the cause of his Angel’s pain. “I know. How long have I been making you feel this way?”

“It’s impossible to pinpoint a time or date.” Aziraphale releases a half-hearted chuckle. “It just happened so slowly over time. At first, I just thought it was me being petty and jealous of you and of others who fawn over you. And perhaps that is a portion of it but also you’ve changed. It’s no longer you and I against the world, equal partners handling what comes at us together. It’s now, you’re the leader, commander, demon in charge and I’ve become like everyone else, someone who was to follow your lead and do as he is told.”

Those words hurt Crowley to his core. Has he truly, been slowly becoming just another corporate asshole that Aziraphale has to please? “I really am the demon, monster those fanatics outside said I am.”

Crowley had meant it as an apology. He hadn’t meant for it to cause Aziraphale to fold forward, wrap his arms around his stomach and sob all the harder. Through his tears, the angel speaks words that constrict Crowley’s heart all the more. “I’m sorry darling. I’m being ridiculous and mean to you. It’s most likely my hormones. Just disregard everything I have said.”

“No.” Crowley pushes himself from the door, his instincts to protect his perfect, much too kind Angel taking over. “No, I didn’t mean to make you take back what you said.” Crowley drops to his knees on the floor beside Aziraphale. “I deserve it, every word of it. I _have_ been a monster to you, to not notice how I’ve been causing you to hurt. I’ve made you feel rejected by me, below me and that makes me no better than that asshole Gabriel.”

Aziraphale slides onto his side, facing Crowley and positions himself so that their noses are only centimeters apart. “That’s too much dearest. You have never been anywhere near as bad as Gabriel.”

“I’m a prat. I haven’t treated you the way you deserve or trusted your instincts when you needed me to.” Crowley remembers his own feelings the night he had stood in that bandstand and the words he knows he would’ve wanted to hear afterwards. “I’m sorry Angel, I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I hope you can give it to me. From now on I’ll listen, I’ll remember to put you before everyone else and I won’t make decisions without your input. Just please don’t divorce me, okay? Because as much as I’ve failed to show it, I can’t do any of this without you.”

“Will you let me stay here then, if they decide you can’t go?” Aziraphale props himself up on an elbow. “With no arguments and no guilt trips?”

“It’s not up to me to give you permission. But if you decide to stay, I will support your decision completely. Just please forgive me if I hover near you constantly and smother you with overprotective attention.” Crowley remains kneeling in supplication at his husband’s side.

“If you’re not leaving my sight.” Aziraphale’s face relaxes and the angel gives Crowley a lopsided smile. “Then am I to trust you will not be running off to throw yourself in danger’s way just because the anti-christ asks you to?”

“I’ve already told Adam as much.” Crowley lays his hand over Aziraphale’s resting on the bed. “From this day forth, you will be the only being I’ll throw myself in danger’s way to protect.” He lifts his free hand and lets it rest over Aziraphale’s soft belly. “Well, you and our little nugget.”

“Thank you.” Aziraphale pulls Crowley onto the bed with him. “These are terms I am more than happy to agree to.”

They lay together for a half hour more, cuddling, kissing, sharing promises and I love you’s. At the end of the thirty minute span, they are interrupted by a soft knock on the door.

“How much you want to bet it’s Isla again?” Crowley nuzzles his nose over wispy curls. “She seems to be our personal messenger.”

“I’m not going to bet, because you’re most likely right.” Aziraphale slips from Crowley’s embrace to answer the door. Upon seeing the messenger he turns to Crowley with a mock pout. “I should’ve taken that bet.”

Aziraphale allows the door to swing completely open, revealing _the_ Messenger. Gabriel is smiling broadly looking beyond pleased. “Well, the vote has been tallied.”

“And?” Crowley moves to stand beside Aziraphale, winding an arm around his husband’s waist.

“Good news and bad news it seems.” The same fake smile stays plastered on the archangel’s face.

“And those are?” Crowley can feel himself losing patience.

Gabriel nods, clasping his hands together. “Good news first. We voted unanimously to send all children of angel/demon descent, pregnant beings _and_ their spouses home.”

“Well.” Aziraphale breaths the word out in a relieved sigh. “Well, that’s wonderful!”

“What’s the bad news?” Crowley hates bad news, especially when it has the potential to worry Aziraphale so soon after the angel finally sounds happy.

“We need to give everyone time to receive the announcement.” Gabriel gives them a sympathetic grimace. “And since all televisions have been removed from the rooms, looks like we are going to have to do this manually. You know, break into groups and go room to room with the information. So, get ready, I’ll give you each a list of the rooms you need to visit.” He gives them two thumbs up. “But we should have everyone informed and on the landing pad to head home by mid-afternoon tomorrow.”

“We’re forced to stay one more night?” Aziraphale leans into Crowley’s embrace for comfort. “And you’re making us go out there?’

“I’m sorry, it’s a necessity.” Gabriel holds out two sheets of paper. “We don’t want anyone left behind.”

“Just know, Aziraphale and I will be visiting the rooms as a pair. Together.” Crowley takes both offerings from his husband’s former boss.

“Of course.” Gabriel gives him a tense smile. “Whatever you need to be more comfortable.”


	12. Chapter 12

“They planned to have us so far apart.” Aziraphale studies the two lists in his hands. Each is broken down so that the remaining members of their group are to visit roughly 6 floors apiece. Meaning if Crowley and Aziraphale _are_ to stick together they are covering twelve floors total. “They have me appointed floors 54-59. I suppose that is so I wouldn’t need to travel too far in my current condition. But they have you informing floors 1-6.”

“Wonder who made this plan out?” Crowley peers over Aziraphale’s shoulder as they walk to the lift that will take them from Gabriel’s personal floor. “It’s a bit of an asshole move to try to keep us so far apart.”

“I’m sure it wasn’t done intentionally.” Aziraphale tries to make the overwhelming nature of their mission seem a bit easier. There is no way they will be able to complete this task in a single day. With a little over 20 million residents in the enormous hotel, he’s thankful for the first time that not all the members of Heaven and Hell have yet decided to marry members of their former opposing sides. There remain five thousand angel/demon families in the whole of the hotel, meaning roughly 60-90 rooms they are required to visit per floor, and that’s a lot of legwork.

“Might’ve been.” Brian chimes in. Crowley and Aziraphale hadn’t been aware that anyone had so closely followed them from the room. In fact, Aziraphale had been fairly certain they had both been the last to leave the suite. “Adam’s right pissed about the whole thing and Gabriel doesn’t seem too pleased either.”

“They made the list, did they?” Crowley slows down, letting the human walk ahead of him and his husband.

“Gabriel dictated the list and Adam added that Crowley should carry the six most populated floors before he miracled them into existence.” Brian stops at the lift and presses the button to summon it.

“Is that safe? Mirrors and all.” Crowley grumbles, gesturing inside as the lift doors open. Noticing the renovations to the interior, the demon shrugs and leads his Angel inside. Looking to Aziraphale he asks. “Do you want to start at the top or bottom first?”

“Let’s start at the bottom and work our way up.” The angel takes Crowley’s hand as the metal box begins to move.

“Will you hit the seventh floor for me?” Brian leans on the handrail to Aziraphale and Crowley’s left. “I have seven through twelve and working my way up sounds like a good idea.”

Aziraphale tries to make conversation by mentioning their surroundings. “When did they remove the mirrors?”

“Last night I suppose.” Brian says with a shrug. “Pepper was complaining she couldn’t find Adam, so she poked her head outside the suite and said she saw him and Gabriel out by the lift doors chatting. Then she wandered back to her room bitching all the more. I don’t think their marital bliss was faring all that well before this trip. Seems to be getting worse with all this craziness.”

“That’s sad.” Aziraphale is only half listening, his mind in too many places.

“Are you insinuating, Adam may have miracled the lift free of mirrors?” Crowley nudges his husband to get the angel’s attention.

“Either him or Gabriel.” Brian’s forehead draws down in thought. The expression is brief before his eyebrows shoot upward.

Aziraphale grasps what Crowley is hinting at in the same instant as Brian. “We’ve been stripped of our ability to miracle and yet you said Adam did just that with these lists.”

“And possibly the lift.” Brian looks down pensively while rubbing his index and middle fingers over his chin.

“Could have been Gabriel though.” Aziraphale adds, he trusts the archangel a lot less than the young man who had saved Crowley’s life all those years ago. “Are you certain _he_ wasn’t the one to miracle the papers into existence? Adam has never had any powers here before.”

“No, no it was Adam.” The human continues to stare at the same spot on the floor but moves his fingers from his face to hold up his index finger as he speaks. “Plus it would make sense if it is Adam.”

“If what was Adam?” Aziraphale looks up, the digital reader telling him that they are passing the twenty-seventh floor.

“The killer.” Brian finally looks up to meet their eyes. “He’s the only one of us with a motive that makes any sense.”

“Am I to understand, that you are implying your lifelong, childhood friend is a murderer?” Aziraphale eyes the young human suspiciously. “That you could so easily throw out that sort of accusation in regards to someone you’ve known so long and so well?”

“Listen, I know you might think I’m being disloyal, but I was reading that book you found.” The human moves closer to the lift’s doors, the digital number indicating their passing of the thirteenth floor. “The one with Isla’s relative and then me and Wensleydale talked it over too. If Adam is the only surviving Nephilim, why wouldn’t he be a little pissed off that his kind were murdered by Heaven but angels and demons mixing is allowed. I mean, if it was me, I’d definitely be pissed off.”

“That’s an angle I haven’t thought about.” Aziraphale considers and then another interesting facet of this theory comes to his mind. “But if that were the case, Gabriel would be just as angry. He had to give up a human lover and children in that fiasco. It was quite the scandal in Heaven”

“I remember you telling me about that.” Crowley says. “Gabriel has always been a narcissist but after the flood was when he got that controlling mean streak about him that he held onto until after the Truce.”

“Or maybe he’s still got it.” The lift doors open as they arrive on the seventh floor. Brian stands halfway the lift and halfway in the hall as he turns to ask. “If you want, when your finished on the bottom six floors, meet me on the twelfth and I’ll help you both with 54-59. Make it even faster.”

“That would be wonderful.” Aziraphale smiles giving the young man a friendly wave as Brian leaves the lift completely. The angel looks to Crowley and the demon nods. Turning back to Brian. “If we finish here first, we will come find and help you.”

“It’s a deal.” Brian smiles and waves back as the doors close.

“So, what do you make of all that?” Crowley asks as they begin to move again. “Adam Young, playing the long game on all of us as a way to avenge against a horrific ordeal he never personally experienced. I’m having trouble believing that.”

“As am I.” Aziraphale turns to face his husband and, now that they’re alone, hug his arms around Crowley’s slender waist. “But it does help to solidify my suspicions about Gabriel. He is the only of the still present celestial beings to have lost anyone in the flood. It’s what made him into the, all business, no pleasure jerk he was for all those millennia.”

“It could be another hotel guest that we don’t even know personally.” Crowley says matter-of-factly. “Don’t get angry with me Dove but there are lots of angels here that had children and lovers lost in that event. We have a solid sounding motive thanks to Brian. I’m only saying it’s much more likely to be one of the millions we aren’t dealing with directly than the small group we are.”

“But that makes all of this more difficult to work through.” Aziraphale doesn’t mean for the sentence to come out as a whine. He drops his head onto Crowley’s shoulder as the lift dings and the doors open onto the first floor. “How can we possibly narrow it down when there are millions to work through, and not a competent investigative source? None of this will ever get solved.”

“Tomorrow evening, once you and I are safely settled at home, we make a call to the Metatron to send on to God and Satan.” Crowley moves from Aziraphale’s embrace and takes the lead into the hotel’s lobby. “We let them set up something to sort this out, so that by this time next year there may be precautions against and ways to better handle this kind of scenario.”

“I’m not sure I’ll ever want to come back here.” Aziraphale knows he’s being unreasonable, that humans bounce back from these things all the time. And hasn’t he always been a big promoter of being more human? Besides, he remembers the goal he made for himself at the beginning of this trip, about how he was going to stop being the weak and broken one of the two of them. He takes Crowley’s hand and turns the demon to face him. “But I’ll do it for you and for the Truce.”

“I think until the nugget is older and we know this place has been murder free for at least five or six years.” Crowley kisses Aziraphale on the forehead. Keeping hold of the angel’s hand the demon leads him toward the front desk and the rooms beyond. “I’m going to find one reason or another for us to be excused from this particular work function. I mean this one is normally more play than work, shouldn’t be _too_ difficult.”

Aziraphale drops his head to hide his smile, remembering the speech Crowley had given him before they’d left their cottage two days prior as to why this function is important. And now his sweet demon is changing that tone completely out of worry for Aziraphale’s emotional well-being. “Thank you dearest.”

“I _will_ have to come up here for work stuff. I can’t avoid that.” Crowley stops at the edge of the lobby.

“Of course. There would be no way around it.” Aziraphale starts. He stops when he hears Crowley hiss through his teeth. “What’s wrong?”

Unfortunately, Yemuel, leaning against his work post, notices Crowley at the same moment Crowley notices him and seconds before Aziraphale registers the other angel’s presence. Crowley grasps Aziraphale’s hand a bit tighter. “I forgot he works down here.”

“A suspect that’s not in our core group.” Aziraphale thinks out loud and then asks. “Did you bring your weapons with you?”

“I have the cursed needle still on me, but no holy water.” Crowley murmurs as they walk past the front counter attempting to avoid eye contact with the racist prick. “Forgot the big bulky gun upstairs.”

“And I don’t have the ability to use my angelic powers if needed.” Aziraphale worries. “But the weapon you do have should be able to handle our current threat if we need it.”

“Still wish I’d brought the gun.” Crowley’s steps pick up as Yemuel rounds the desk and makes to follow them.

“Why are you both out here?” The muscular angel doesn’t take long to catch up. “Sneaking around making trouble? Or trying to run off?”

“We’re down here on official business.” Aziraphale doesn’t stop, trying to make distance between them and their unwanted companion. “You won’t need be bothered by _’our kind’_ much longer.”

“What’s that mean?” Yemuel steps in front of them, blocking their path.

“We’re informing all the beings who are in potential danger that they will be sent home tomorrow afternoon.” Crowley steps in front of his husband. Aziraphale notices his free hand settle over the waistband of his board shorts and most likely where the knitting needle is kept.

“So, there is a motive?” Yemuel stares coldly into Crowley’s shaded eyes. “Who is in danger? Will I be leaving?”

“You won’t be going.” Aziraphale steps to Crowley’s side and attempts for the both of them to side-step around Yemuel. “Whoever is behind all of this is targeting angel/demon unions. Specifically, the children and pregnant beings of such unions.”

Yemuel’s features contort from cold and curious to something much darker and threatening. He blocks Aziraphale and Crowley’s maneuver, keeping his body in their path. “Meaning _you’ll_ be leaving.”

“We will.” Crowley drops his chin and peers at Yemuel over the rim of his glasses. “Is there a problem with that?”

Yemuel’s nostrils flare. To Aziraphale’s surprise, he moves aside giving them access to pass. “Doesn’t seem right. Someone here is actually doing what’s needed for the first time in years and weak-ass Gabriel putting a stop to it. He once was a strong leader, supporting the cause of righteousness, but then your kind comes along and he’s all for this peace and equality shit.” This portion of his speech aimed directly at Crowley. “As if demons are sentient, feeling beings like the rest of us.”

Aziraphale stops abruptly and spins on the foul creature. “You horrible, nasty…”

He’s cut off by Crowley who cups the sides of his face and turns him away from Yemuel. “Ignore him Dove. He’s not worth wasting our limited time.”

“I hope this unknown hero kills you both and that abomination you’ve made.” The muscle-bound dickhead attempts to egg them on, apparently wanting a fight.

Aziraphale takes a few short breaths and to his relief sees that Crowley, although seething, is keeping his cool. The demon hurries them from the lobby and the cruel angel.

“If Falling were still a thing, I think he’d deserve it more than those of us who went the first round.” Crowley says, crumpling against a wall once they are out of Yemuel’s sight. He pats the right side of his waistband. “After that last jibe I was ready to stick this needle up his fucking nose.”

“I would’ve been glad to help.” Aziraphale runs his hands soothingly over Crowley’s arms. “But I think that might have hindered our getting home.”

“Yeah.” Crowley gives him a weak smile. “Everyone might’ve thought me a suspect after that.”

“I’d say so.” Aziraphale looks to his left and right at the lines of rooms. On this floor there aren’t as many as the others, since the area needs to hold the front lobby and the bar. “How may rooms do we need to visit on this floor?”

“Only fifteen.” Crowley looks at the first list. “The other floors are what’s going to take a while. We have 90 on the fourth and sixth floors, not together but apiece.”

“Let’s get started, shall we?”

* * *

They finish the first floor in less than twenty minutes and Crowley breathes a sigh of relief that Yemuel has abandoned his post as they head to the lift. He isn’t sure he could control himself if the malicious creep said something terrible to Aziraphale again.

The second floor is a bit more hectic, with eighty-three rooms in need of the information. It takes them nearly an hour and forty-five minutes to work their way through this floor before returning once again to the lift.

“This is going to take longer than a single day.” Aziraphale sighs and Crowley can hear the disappointment and dread behind the words.

“We will be done in plenty of time.” Crowley pulls his angel close when they step inside the lift. “Before the night is over, if Brian keeps to his word and helps.”

“What would we do for the rest of our last evening here?” Aziraphale lays his head against Crowley’s chest.

“I have some ideas.” Crowley rests his cheek in Aziraphale’s soft curls. “Where would you prefer to spend the evening, our issued hotel room or the spare room in Gabriel’s suite?”

“Gabriel’s spare room. With the bathroom mirror removed, it seems a bit safer.” Aziraphale pulls away as the doors ding and slide open. “Even if the killer is among our group, they’re not likely to give themselves away by murdering in an area that would make it easier to whittle down suspects.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right.” Crowley agrees and then he and his Angel step out of the lift and into chaos.

There are adult angels and demons in the hallway and the doorways to their rooms, arguing and yelling. A few of the older children are doing the same, whereas many of the smaller are crying or clinging to their parents in fear.

All it takes is for one of the demons to spot Aziraphale and Crowley and the couple are suddenly being herded back against a wall by a throng of supernatural beings.

“Is it true, that only certain families will be permitted to leave?”

“The angel that knocked at our door told us that you can only leave if you’re a mixed couple family.”

Crowley cringes at the wording and at the knowledge that Yemuel wasn’t at his desk earlier because he has been obviously running about creating mayhem.

“Are we to assume everyone on this floor has thus been informed?” Aziraphale raises his voice to be heard over all the other voices. “And were given the proper information?”

“We’ve all been informed.” Shouts a demon to their right. “We were told anyone who wasn’t a member of a mixed species family is being forced to stay behind with the murderer.”

“We are all the same species.” Aziraphale throws a piercing glare in the direction of the voice. “So, besides that bit of archaic nonsense, you have been informed correctly. It seems the killer is targeting beings from angel/demon family units, specifically pregnant beings and children.”

While Aziraphale continues to explain what needs to be done, by who, how and when, Crowley looks about for an escape route. As the crowd continues to talk (shout would be a better way to describe it), Crowley is able to piece together that Yemuel visited selected rooms with what he knew and then left those he had informed to spread that information as well.

In a way that Crowley is sure Yemuel never intended, this has the potential to make his and Aziraphale’s job be accomplishable so much more quickly. But, in the way Crowley is certain Yemuel did intend, it makes getting back to the room safely a lot more difficult.

As his Angel talks, Crowley wraps an arm around his waist and slowly slides the both of them towards the lift. The doors open just as Aziraphale finishes. “We are scheduled to depart at noon. Per the Archangel Gabriel, do not attempt to leave if you are not one of the authorized families. Please understand that higher authorities will be involved soon enough to capture the culprit.”

As the doors slide shut, Crowley can hear someone shout. “I hope they get you tainted beasts before morning!”

Crowley pulls his cell phone from his back pocket and calls Adam. After three rings the anti-christ picks up. “Hello.”

“Adam, is it chaos throughout the hotel?”

“It is and I’m hearing it’s your and Aziraphale’s fault.” Adam sounds extra pissed.

“Couldn’t have been helped. I’ll explain later.” Crowley rubs his temples. “I need you to message everyone and tell them to head back to Gabriel’s suite ASAP. Miracle phones into all the hotel rooms and I’ll spend the night calling and informing everyone on the lists. But none of us need to be out in this madness.”

“How am I supposed to do that?” Adam’s voice wavers. “I’ve never had abilities here.”

“That’s not what we were told this morning.” The lift stops on the eighth floor and Adam boards. Crowley drops his phone from his ear and looks over the infernal human in confusion. “I thought Brian had this floor?”

“He did, but he asked me to trade. He had fewer stops, so I did.” Adam gives Crowley a sideways glance as the lift jerks upward again. “Is that who told you that I suddenly have my powers here?”

“Yes.” Aziraphale moves closer to Crowley, tucking himself to the demon’s side. “I’m sure he meant no harm.”

“I’m sure he did.” Adam huffs scratching his fingers through his hair. “What a light that information would paint me in right now, hey? But it’s okay, I know what sort of things he’s been up too. Sneaking around Gabriel’s suite at night, betraying me when and where he can. And I know he can’t be the only one, a lot of the others are most likely in on it too. But I’m sure you already know all that.”

“In on what?” Aziraphale swallows loudly and presses his back against his husband’s front. “I’m afraid I don’t understand what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, please Aziraphale, I’m fully aware he’s already told you all about it.” Adam snaps his fingers and the lift stops. As the lights flicker around them, Adam’s eyes begin glow a frightening red. “He’s wasted no time in telling everyone the information that should’ve remained a secret. Stop pretending you don’t know how I’ve been wronged.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So we meet another new character, sort of. Hope you enjoy, love you all <3

“Adam, please.” Aziraphale pushes into Crowley, causing them both to move until the demon’s back is against the lift wall. “You’re feeling betrayed and I completely understand that, but we’ve been friends for too many years. Please don’t hold something against us that was and still is out of our hands.”

“I’m not holding it against you.” Adam sneers, the red of his eyes seeming to pulse. “I know I’m to blame for my actions, but that doesn’t give him and the rest of you the right to gossip behind my back and keep the wound open. Pepper’s never going to properly forgive me if everyone keeps throwing it in our face.”

“Wait.” Aziraphale relaxes. He steps forward and Crowley instinctively reaches for him as the angel breaks their contact. Aziraphale pats the hand Crowley lays on his hip before continuing. “I don’t think we are talking about the same things.”

“Oh, we’re not huh?” Adam holds his disbelieving, glowing gaze firmly on the angel. “So, Brian wasn’t going on and on about what a shitty husband I’ve been?”

“No, he actually wasn’t.” Crowley steps to stand by his Angel’s side. “Your qualities as a spouse only very briefly came into question.”

“Bullshit!” The lights around them flicker and spark. “Isla and Brian have been talking to Pepper about it behind my back. And it seems as of today, Gabriel is joining with them. Telling her that forgiving me was the wrong choice, that she needs to pack up and leave.” Adam steps back from Aziraphale’s approach. “You said yourself, Aziraphale, we’ve been friends for too long. Even if you both aren’t participating in turning my wife against me further, you could’ve at least been honest with me about Brian and Isla.”

“I swear to all that is holy and unholy.” Aziraphale stops his approach. “The only time he mentioned your marriage was to say it seemed to be on the rocks but that wasn’t the topic of his conversation. Merely a side note. He went into no detail about your specific problems.”

“If that’s so, then what was the topic of his conversation?” Adam falls back against the wall and crosses his arms over his chest.

“Uhh,” Aziraphale turns to Crowley, looking for some indication of how to proceed. Crowley is just as stumped as his husband. If Adam is the killer this could all be a ploy on his part to get them to verify that Brian is on to him.

“Give me whatever excuses you want. I’m not as foolish as you all seem to think.” With a sigh, the half-human flicks his wrist and the lift jerks to life again. His eyes fade back to blue as his face takes on a sad sort of disappointment. Adam looks away from the angel and demon to type on his phone. “I’m starting to suspect that there may not be anything to salvage at this point. That’s why I went along with this little ploy to get me away from her and the two of them near her. See if Pepper took the bait.” He glances at them from his peripheral, while keeping his face in the direction of his phone. “Was just hoping I had at least a couple friends I could still trust.”

The lift moves past floor eighteen before anyone cares to speak again. It’s Crowley who breaks the silence. “Did you send the messages out to head back to Gabriel’s room?”

“Yeah.” Adam continues to stare at his phone.

“Who was supposed to have thirteen through eighteen?” Crowley watches as floor twenty-four passes. “Or nineteen through twenty-four? Because no one is boarding.”

“Originally Isla and then Gabriel in that order.” Adam rubs his temples and drops the phone into his pocket. “But it was Gabriel who was sent to me that Isla wanted to switch with me and I know enough to figure out that means also Brian with her. So, figure that mess out. All I know is we should be entering Brian’s area now, because this is what was originally mine.”

Crowley watches as the digital numbers above the door flicker and change. When they pass the thirtieth floor his fear starts to spike again. There is no reaction from Adam, which doesn’t help to make the demon feel any better. Crowley takes Aziraphale’s hand, pulls the angel to his side and contemplates if it is wise to question the only being with powers as to why he isn’t concerned that his friends and colleagues aren’t boarding. Crowley decides it best to not risk sparking Adam’s anger again.

Obviously Aziraphale does think it best. As the lift dings to a stop at the thirty-fourth floor, Crowley’s ridiculously, brave angel asks. “Do you suppose they all took the stairs since the lift wasn’t moving for so long?”

“There’s another lift. Service lift in the back. Maybe they took that or the stairs to avoid me.” Adam shrugs looking up from his phone as the lift doors ding and open. His face shifts from anxious expectation to returned anger as Isla steps inside. “This was supposed to be Pepper’s floor.”

“Gabriel said you wanted a bunch of us to switch.” Isla takes a step back, jaw agape at the rudeness of Adam’s greeting.

“No, no.” Adam shakes his head. His eyes begin to ignite anew. “Gabriel came to me saying you wanted us to switch. I know the game you and Brian have been playing behind my back.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Isla turns her head away from the anti-christ and Crowley can see the deceit on her face.

“She’d forgiven me before this trip but you and Brian, and now apparently Gabriel, had to step in and reignite a doused fire. I thought you were my friends.” Adam looks to Aziraphale and Crowley. “You really don’t know anything about this?”

“No, but now that we have been drug into it, would either of you mind clarifying?” Aziraphale says primly and Crowley, although curious himself, wishes the angel would wait until they aren’t trapped in a metal box with a humanoid bomb.

“Gabriel doesn’t know anything about any of it either.” Isla rolls her eyes. “That big lug was just doing what he does best, delivering messages.”

“So, you admit then that you and Brian have been trying to sabotage everything Pepper and I have been trying to heal.” Adam somehow looks triumphant and extremely wounded at the same time. “Why?”

“Because it’s not right the way you’ve taken advantage of her.” Isla turns on him, just as the lift dings for the fortieth floor, the doors slide open and Wensleydale boards. “I want to know what happened to the strong independent woman who doesn’t take shit from anyone, that I befriended at university?”

“She’s still that woman.” Adam gives Wensleydale a quick glance, his face blushing with apparent embarrassment at the new arrival's witness to what he has pushed Isla to discuss.

“To everyone else, but not to you.” Isla gestures to Adam while looking at Wensleydale for approval. It’s dawning on Crowley that maybe he and Aziraphale are the only ones not privy to some sort of scandal. “I watched you lie to her face earlier with no remorse and no tell. Yes, she may have given you a death glare, but she just let it happen with no argument, none of the ‘I’ll kick your ass’ sass I’m accustomed to from my best friend.”

“It’s true you know.” Wensleydale adds timidly. “Pepper caves with you, has for a while. Like she’s subservient to you. An employee or royal subject like the rest of us.”

Crowley feels the guilt tugging at his heart. Of course, he’s never done to Aziraphale what he’s deciphered Adam has done to Pepper, but he has unconsciously treated Aziraphale like a subservient to his own fame. He looks up to the angel at his side, and Aziraphale appears emotionally pained.

“Adam.” The angel speaks gently, just above a whisper. “Have you been unfaithful to your wife?”

“That’s not the point!” Adam turns on Aziraphale and Crowley, instinctively, moves forward to protect.

“I think it is very much the point.” Isla moves into Adam’s space and takes hold of his arm, spinning him to face her. “And this attitude you have that you’re the victim is precisely what we have a problem with. You’ve become a damn good leader but, in the process, a shitty friend and husband.”

As the two continue to argue, Crowley notices that the digital numbers have sped up as they progress through the floors. He finds it curious that at the rate they are whizzing by, he hasn’t felt a change in gravitational pressure. Within seconds the lift dings and the doors open for the sixtieth floor and the five of them are presented with the lobby to Gabriel’s suite.

“I’m done.” Adam pulls away from Isla’s hold. “With all of you. Don’t speak to me again unless it’s business related, because from this point on, I’m not calling a one of you my friends.”

Their leader, and former friend, stalks towards the door and knocks. The other four leave the lift but wait at a distance behind him until Hastur opens the door from the other side. The Duke of Hell having been the only of their group left behind for his own safety. It didn’t seem wise to have him going door to door when close to 75% of the hotel’s guests wanted him dead or locked away.

“Has my wife come back yet?” Adam greets the demon.

“Not yet.” Hastur looks confused and more than a little put out. “Heard you ran into some problems.”

Adam huffs and hurries inside. Isla follows close behind, followed by Wensleydale. Crowley waits for his former superior to step inside before he and Aziraphale cross the threshold. He still remembers the asshole rolling hellfire over his fingers and threatening his angel only two days earlier. The memory a damn good reason to want as much distance between Aziraphale and Hastur as possible.

Brian sits near the bar, his face schooled, showing no emotion or fear as Adam marches towards him. “Where is she?”

“She traded floors with me.” Wensleydale pipes in with a sigh. “And she doesn’t want you bothering her, not until she finishes what she needs to do.”

“Why would she switch floors with you?” Adam halts mid step. When he turns to face the skinny, bespectacled man, there is no longer any anger in his countenance. The hellish rage now replaced with a knowing fear.

“You know exactly why.” Isla settles onto the middle of the sofa, Dagon and Uriel to her far left and Gabriel to her far right. The two archangels and demon watching intently at the drama opening itself before them.

“Pepper found out about the rest of it, Adam.” Gabriel throws his arm over the back of the sofa, with an air of aloofness to his words. “You couldn’t keep something like that from her. Eventually Arakiel would expect you to participate in their lives and offer support?”

Aziraphale leans in close to Crowley’s ear. “I hope this doesn’t put a damper on our going home.”

* * *

**Seven months earlier**

Pepper has been perched over her notebook for the better part of four hours, pencil in hand. She writes all of her novels like this, the words flow from her more quickly this way. There is something she finds daunting about worrying where her hands are over a keyboard that gets in the way of bringing the story and characters from her mind and onto something tangible and present. Something she can physically touch.

She’s been laboring over this particular work for over five years now, hoping this will be as popular as the three she has written before. She uses an alias of course, if she were to use her connection to Adam, use her role as the wife of earth’s world leader, she would have been guaranteed a fanbase from the loyalty that publishers and the world feel towards him. But she doesn’t want her success that way. If she did, her accomplishments wouldn’t be her’s, but instead just more of his.

She’s coming to the end of this portion of the process. Her system is a tedious one but also one she feels is thorough and perfect. She writes the entire novel on the page then, when finished, types it onto the computer, doing her first of dozens of edits as she goes.

With a swipe of her hand, the last line is written and she sets back in her chair, glowing with the knowledge that this is another job well done. She sets her pencil down and wanders from her study to the kitchen in order to make herself a cup of tea and a bite to eat.

It’s only been her in the house for a week now, Adam having been called away on business, will return the day after tomorrow. She looks at the clock, a quarter to four in the afternoon. Another four hours and fifteen minutes before her and Adam’s nightly chat. She throws together a small sandwich as the kettle boils and thinks of how excited she is to tell him of how much she’s accomplished in his absence.

It’s only five after four when she finishes her small meal and clean up and decides to not waste the free time she has. Wandering into her study, she grabs up her pile of notebooks and carries them to the computer desk and their shared desktop.

They say it’s shared, but Pepper only ever uses it for typing or research. You don’t need many outlets for world news when your spouse _is_ the begin all and end all of everything that is happening in the world.

Taking a seat in the rolling, highbacked, leather chair, she realizes the computer hasn’t been shut down since the last time Adam has used it. She clicks the mouse to dismiss the screen saver, opens **Word** and that’s when she sees the notification from the bottom right corner of the screen.

It’s the pinned icon for **RealmShare,** all four realms’ preferred social media format. The green blinking dot indicating a new private message and Pepper starts to ignore it at first. That is until she can’t recall whether her or Adam were the last to be signed on and if it’s a message from her publisher she’d be remiss if she ignored it. Clicking on the icon a message box appears on her screen

**Arakiel:** _What time should I expect you?_

Within seconds a response.

**Adam:** _I’m to call Pepper at 8pm. After I finish that call, I’ll be to your room_.

“He’s using the app on his phone.” Pepper murmurs into the quiet of her study as she watches the exchange continue to happen.

**Arakiel:** _And what should I expect once you’re here?_

Pepper watches as her husband gives an intimate list of details that he plans to indulge in later this evening with a demon Pepper has never met and knows nothing about. As the conversation continues she feels herself growing ever more ill, until she can take no more and rushes into the washroom to vomit.

* * *

**Three Days Earlier**

Pepper is excited for this two week getaway. Seven months prior she and Adam had been on the verge of divorce, but had decided after a brief separation to work it out. She had spent that month apart with Isla, trying to decide what to do with her life when Adam had shown up on the doorstep looking desperate, ragged and in tears. He had begged for her back, apologized profusely, falling on his knees and swearing his undying love and devotion and something inside of Pepper caved.

Sure, a week ago, she’d found a random, old fashioned flip phone in Adam’s things, but he had assured her that was an old deactivated model and had allowed her to discard it.

Today, in the lobby of this beautiful resort she’s so glad she had, that she'd released her jealousy and hadn’t over-reacted to something so trivial. The past six months have been the best of their marriage. Adam stopped travelling for work without her and has proceeded to indulge her every whim and need. He has given her full access to all of his social media and only uses it for work. Luckily, their friends never questioned why Pepper was the one who kept in contact with all of them on a personal level, meaning none of them but Isla were the wiser.

She cringes, taking Adam’s hand to get his attention and points to the drama happening between Crowley and some beefy front desk angel who is trying to lay on the charm with Aziraphale. She leans close to her husband’s ear. “You think Crowley can take him?”

“If not, Aziraphale can.” Adam laughs and kisses her on the cheek. She ignores that small burn of jealousy that pops up in her stomach as the thought crosses her mind that Aziraphale would beat the living shit out of someone before he’d ever consider cheating on his spouse.

_Don’t._ She tells herself. _You’ve forgiven him, what Adam has done is all in the past._

Pepper’s resolve on this idea lasts for all of ten seconds before she sees Arakiel, stepping through the hotel’s main entryway, her stomach swollen with child.

Pepper turns her head to catch Isla’s eye and Brian looks between the two of them in confusion. Adam doesn’t seem to notice the new arrival as he is currently enthralled by an angry Crowley dragging his spouse to the lift. Pepper places her free hand’s finger to her lips, indicating for her friend to be quiet then silently mouths, "Get me her room number."

Isla nods.

“We might want to take the stairs or the service escalator.” Adam chuckles again. “I got a feeling the main lift is gonna be occupied for a bit.”

“You take the stairs, we'll catch up.” Isla forces a smile and begins whispering to Brian and Wensleydale.

Pepper does her best to keep her footing as they walk through the metal doors and up the stairwell. Her mind is buzzing, she feels like she wants to vomit and her vision is red with a resurgence of pain and fury. _He knows, I know he goddamn must know. He’s not going to get away with this._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do I have you all totally confused yet?


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, if you've been following my quick updates so far, I've been updating so quickly because I was moving already written stories from my old AO3 to this new account. This chapter catches me up, since this tale is my current WIP. My updates will slow now to only once or twice a week as I finish the story. Hope you wait for the rest and leave comments and kudos to let me know what you think of what you've read so far.
> 
> Thanks for being here. Hope you enjoy.

Pepper is grateful Wensleydale agreed to switch with her, but she’s also a more than a little nervous. Over the past several months of trying to heal and move on with Adam, she’s also come to understand that she doesn’t hate Arakiel. In fact, Pepper has found it’s easier to forgive Arakiel than Adam. The exotic demon has made no oaths to Pepper, has no cause for familial or friendly allegiances, unlike Adam, who she’s known her whole life and had promised to love and honor her.

That forgiveness had faltered three days prior, when Pepper had caught sight of the demon’s swollen middle and had come to the awareness that for the pregnancy to be so far along the child most likely belongs to one being in particular. Pepper is only human after all, and now, knowing there will forever be long-term proof of her husband’s infidelity is more than enough to make her, or anyone else for that matter, lose any sense of maturity or forgiveness.

She’s forced herself to, as much as humanly possible, stay calm and collected. Pepper can’t help but give her husband the cold shoulder, finding herself more withdrawn and less affectionate these past three days than what she has in months. Adam must notice her change in attitude, although he hasn’t said anything, as she tries to sort out how to proceed with her new-found information.

Then Hastur brought into light that she had been lied to again and Adam’s reaction had been to lie about being caught in the lie. And the most frightening part is how he had been able to feed her his deception so convincingly, causing Pepper to ask herself since this morning. _What else has he hidden in these past seven months that I don’t know?_

It was at that moment her decision was made.

She takes a deep, calming breath and releases it slowly as the lift dings for the thirty-ninth floor. Yes, she is supposed to start on the thirty-seventh, but she’ll back track once this conversation is finished. Pepper doesn’t have the emotional strength to wait any longer.

The hallway is quiet as she leaves the lift and turns to the right. Suite 37988 requires a longer walk to get to than some of the others, since it is along the far back wall of the hotel and from that angle has only a view of the ocean. Not that an oceanic view is bad, but the rooms closer to the lift give a view of the ocean, the boardwalk, the park and many of the establishments. Therefore, the ones in the back aren’t as sought after as the ones with more active scenery.

Pepper walks slow, trying to collect her thoughts. She hopes Arakiel won’t take her unannounced arrival as some sort of threat, that the demon will give her time to explain and talk.

More quickly than anticipated, Pepper is standing outside of Arakiel’s door. The human adjusts her posture, slouching her shoulders ever so slightly in hopes the other being won’t mistake her as trying to be intimidating, and knocks.

There is nothing for several seconds, then the rattle of a deadbolt unlatching and the door opening to show a demon with long blonde hair, pink skin spattered with shimmering, emerald green scales and crimson slitted eyes. Arakiel shifts uncomfortably, looking Pepper over from head to toe before speaking. “Listen, I’ve avoided contact with him since you found out and I don’t plan to let him know about the child. Just, please, I want to keep it. So, if you’re here for some sort of fight or physical revenge, can you find me in two months when there is no risk to the baby.”

“I’m not here to fight.” Pepper hopes she looks as empathetic as she feels. “I just want to talk.”

Arakiel’s jaw twitches. She seems to consider the human for a moment before opening the door fully and stepping out of Pepper’s way. “Okay. Sure. Come on in.”

Pepper follows into the well-lit room. Arakiel has one of the medium sized suites, similar to the one she and Adam had been issued upon their arrival. A comfortable bedroom/sitting room combination opens ahead of her. The door to the bathroom is directly to her left, and past it, on the same wall, hangs a television that is currently showing an episode of BBC’s Sherlock . To her right is the bed, the foot of which is a few meters from the hanging set and, just beyond that, the balcony. Pepper concludes all the rooms, aside from Gabriel’s, must have the same layout.

“Didn’t you get the message that reflective surfaces are dangerous?” Pepper lifts a hand in the direction of the flatscreen.

“I did.” Arakiel takes a seat on the edge of her bed and turns to face Pepper. “The telly is a little too heavy for me to drag around at this stage of my condition. So instead of risking any injuries, I figured it safe if I kept it on. Not really any reflection that way.”

“Any reflective surfaces are dangerous.” Pepper confirms. She tilts her head in the direction of the mounted appliance. “I can remove it for you if you’d like.”

“That’s very kind of you, but leave it.” Arakiel’s may have stated she thinks Pepper’s offer kind, but her expression gives away that she doesn’t entirely trust the human’s intent. “It makes me feel less alone.”

“I really don’t mind at all and you’d be a whole hell of a lot safer with it out of here.” It’s odd really. Pepper knows that most normal people would hate this demon for what she’s done, but Pepper has never been built that way. Adam is the one who’s betrayed her, not Arakiel. Pepper finds she feels, instead, protective of the lonely, pregnant demon.

“Stop with the niceties.” Arakiel shakes her head. “Why is it you’re here? Because if your goal is to get me to give up my child, I’m telling you now, that isn’t going to happen.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Pepper purses her lips and, without knowing, why bares a piece of her heart. “I will admit I envy you, Adam never wanted for he and I to have children.”

“Even more reason not to tell him about my current predicament, huh?” The demon drops her gaze to her hands folded in her lap.

“If that’s what you want.” Pepper shifts nervously from leg to leg. “I plan on asking Adam for a divorce, once this whole serial killer thing is dealt with.”

“What?” Arakiel’s head snaps up, her eyes squinting at the human in disbelief. “Why?”

“I can’t trust him anymore.” Pepper points to the bed beside Arakiel “May I?”

Arakiel nods and pats the mattress to her right. Pepper settles onto the spot indicated and continues. “He’s lied to me, not just about you but a lot of things it seems. And I don’t think I could be happy anymore if I stayed with him.”

“Why are you telling me?” Arakiel tries to face the human better by pulling her left leg onto the bed. The action proves to be too difficult and with a huff she lets her foot drop again to the floor.

Pepper instead mimics the action, pulling her right leg onto the bed so that she can fully face Arakiel. “I’m not completely sure myself, I just feel like it’s the right thing to do.”

“To tell me, before your husband, that you’re going to ask him for a divorce?” The demon drops her chin and looks at Pepper like she’s waiting for the punchline of a bad joke. “Not sure you owe me that much.”

“Honestly, I feel like I owe him less than I do you.” Pepper picks at the threads of the duvet. “You’ve technically never betrayed or wronged me, just fell into the temptation of being wanted by someone handsome and powerful. He’s the one that broke promises and lied to me. You were just cursed with the same romantic tastes as myself.” Pepper gives the demon a shy grin. “Sucks to be us, huh?”

“So, you’re here to give me what you think I’m due?” Arakiel tilts her head, expression less suspicious and now more curious.

“I’m here to let you know, I’m stepping out of your way.” Pepper closes her eyes, attempting to hold back her tears. She’s made her decision but that doesn’t mean it’s not going to hurt. “If you want to go to him, see if the two of you can make it work, you have my blessing.”

“Thank you?” It’s not a statement of gratitude as much as it’s a question.

“But.” Pepper sighs and holds her hands before herself palms out. “And please don’t take this as me trying to stop you from any decision you might make. He’s a liar and a cheat and he may, very well, do you the same way he’s done me.”

“I realize that. There is no part of me that wants anything to do with him any longer.” Arakiel pats the hand that Pepper has since placed back onto the bed. “Thank you for coming to me. I don’t have many friends ever since the rumors of what happened hit the gossip wheel in Paradise.”

“Well, I could be your friend.” The corner of Pepper’s lip twists up in a playful smirk. “I mean, we both got something in common to bitch about.”

Arakiel laughs, the sound of it genuine and relieved. “I think I’d like that. You want to stay for tea, or I can order room service?”

“You know you match the description of the victims? And we plan to vacate anyone who could be a possible target along with their partners, if they have one.” Pepper hates to ruin the happiness on the demon’s strangely beautiful face with this information, so she adds. “I think you should come back to Gabriel’s suite to stay tonight. Then leave from there for the landing pad tomorrow afternoon. That is, after I inform my assigned floors of the mass departure.”

“To where are we being vacated?”

“Home.” Pepper gives a tight smile and rises from the bed. “You’re all going home.”

“Did you want my help?” Arakiel stands as well and follows Pepper as she makes her way to the door. “Telling everyone?”

“I don’t think that would be safe for you.” Pepper reaches the exit, placing her hand on the doorknob. “I’ll try not to take long.”

Pepper opens the door to find a hall full of shouting angels and demons. It’s at that moment her phone dings with an incoming text.

**Adam:** _One of the hotel staff has caused a bit of ruckus. He’s let everyone know of tomorrow’s plan on all the floors, in a not too safe manner. Head back to the room immediately. Seems our work today has been handled._

“It’s the wife of earth’s leader!” Comes a shout from Pepper’s left. She looks toward the voice and catches the gaze of several angels, now moving with purpose in her direction. “Explain why the half-breeds and their parents are being taken to safety and not the rest of us!”

“Oh Shit.” Arakiel says under her breath, tugging Pepper back into the room. The demon quickly shuts the door, making sure to lock and bolt it.

“This isn’t going to work out well.” Pepper allows herself to be led back to the bed. “There’s going to be dissention and possible violence over this. Who knew there were still so many closed minded and angry beings among us?”

“Hate tends to breed much faster than love. That’s always been my experience.” Arakiel returns to her seat beside Pepper. “Maybe you should stay here for the night?”

* * *

“What do you mean, you won’t be back to the suite tonight?” Adam bellows into the phone as the other angels, demons and humans try to ignore his tirade. “Where the fuck are you staying?”

Aziraphale wanders about the long line of bookshelves, attempting to focus on the titles rather than the red-faced world leader in the sitting room beyond. Crowley moves with him, keeping the angel in his sights at all times. After Adam showed his true self in the lift and with their newfound awareness of his deceptive tendencies, both the angel and his husband don’t know how well they can trust their old friend.

“Don’t give me that! You’re my wife, I have a right to know where you are!”

“Adam, I think you need to calm down.” Aziraphale hears Gabriel say. “You’re not being fair to her. Give her some space.”

“Twenty years ago, I’d have been shocked if someone told me that this was a conversation I would witness hearing.” Crowley murmurs, having moved to stand directly behind Aziraphale. He winds long arms around the angel’s waist and rests his chin on Aziraphale’s shoulder. “Adam being a complete arse to Pepper, and Gabriel being the sensible good guy.”

“It makes you wonder how well you truly know anyone.” Aziraphale muses and is startled to hear Crowley make a pained whimper. “Darling, what’s wrong?”

“You know, I’d never treat you in that way?” Crowley buries his face in Aziraphale’s neck, his warm breath creating goosebumps on the angel’s skin. “I may not have always been what you deserve, but I’d never be unfaithful or verbally mistreat you to such a vicious degree.”

“Crowley, my love, I know.” Aziraphale turns carefully in his demon’s arms. Crowley lifts his face from his husband’s neck and Aziraphale is greeted with watery, golden eyes. The sight is heartbreakingly stunning and enough to help the angel tune out the anti-christ’s tantrum. “And we’re past that now, my darling, sweet, compassionate, beautiful husband. We’ve known one another for six thousand years and it’s only been in the last ten or so that you’ve ever done anything to disappoint me. Prior to, and even during that time, you’ve always been my hero, my champion, the one being I’ve always known I could rely upon.”

“That doesn’t give me the right to ignore you the way I have.” Crowley’s voice breaks, he rests his head against Aziraphale’s. “To not notice you need more, that I was hurting you.”

“And how many times have I hurt throughout earth’s long history?” Aziraphale traces his fingers along Crowley’s jaw. “Broken your heart again and again? No matter what any religious doctrines read, none of us are perfect, but you my dear are far more perfect than me.”

“Bitch!” Adam shrieks and Aziraphale hears something crash.

“Was that really necessary?” Uriel’s matter-of-fact tone chides. “You’ll be needing that communication device later.”

“I’ll miracle it fixed _. I_ can still do that, remember?”

“What happened to him?” Crowley pulls Aziraphale closer. “He was such a good kid, and a good man for several years. Heaven, until these past few days I thought he was still.”

“Power can corrupt.” The angel rests the side of his face against his husband’s chest.

“If I ever start in that direction again, please bring me back to reality.” Crowley’s lips press into Aziraphale’s hair. “My main concern is you and your happiness above all else. I need you to keep me on the right path. I’ll give up all titles and authority if it’s what you want. You’re more important that all of it.”

“I will. But you could never be like him.” Aziraphale runs his hands along his demon’s back as the two sway in their embrace. “I know you better than I know anyone else. Others might surprise me by showing their darkness, but there isn’t anything about you, body or soul, that I don’t know intimately.”

Crowley hums in response before adding. “Think we should go hide in our little room until tomorrow? I don’t think we’re needed in any of this.”

“I think that’s a lovely idea.” Aziraphale steps from Crowley’s embrace, but continues to hold firmly to his husband’s hand. He leads his demon through the sitting room and waves to the others present. “We are retiring to our quarters, please knock if we’re needed”

Adam doesn’t acknowledge the couple, as he’s too busy abusing his freshly restored cellphone. Nor do Hastur or Dagon, the two demons lounge on the sofa, enthralled with the meltdown occurring before them. Uriel looks up from her perch beside Dagon and returns Aziraphale’s wave. Isla and the other members of the Them seem to have vacated the sitting room while Aziraphale and Crowley had been hidden among the books. Gabriel also waves and offers a verbal “See you at the departure.”

* * *

**12:30AM, HST (Heaven Standard Time)**

Hovering within the realm between fully alive and fully dead is, at the least to say, uncomfortable. One feels constantly discombobulated as though you are here and yet not truly here. Almost as if you are a figment of someone’s imagination, and, in a way, he supposes that is what he has become. The promise of becoming fully himself again is one of the three promised rewards that have kept him going.

“I want to talk to him.” He tells the summoner, thinking of his most important motivator. “You’ve caused enough chaos today. I had assumed you could handle yourself better.”

“There are no mirrors in his room.” The summoner tells him. “And as for what I’ve cause, I would call it a viable distraction more than chaos.”

“Well, it definitely pulled attention away from the murders for a bit.” He agrees. “But weren’t you afraid it would lead to people suspecting you? When they more closely look at your hand in it all?”

“I don’t think so. I just wish they hadn’t come up with another way around my plans.” The summoner shakes their head. “Nothing to fret about, I have this one handled too.”

“With the majority of their powers gone, how do they expect to be transported home?” He changes the subject, curious but also unwilling to anger them. If he does, they may not grant him his wish tonight. “With only one being believed to have any powers, they can’t possibly think they could send thousands back to where they came from. A direct power source is needed for each and every one without powers.”

“Wensleydale found a spell in that book that was so kindly left out.” The summoner grimaces. “I was unaware it was even here, or I would’ve made certain it was destroyed before it could be found.”

“A spell? Do tell.” He pulls the hood from his head and watches them closely with his strangely beautiful eyes

“Apparently with the right incantation, even a singular power source can be amplified to cover a large area and multiple beings.” They sigh, never wavering their gaze from his. “Not a big deal, I can still use this to our advantage.”

“I’m trusting you, but we can do so much more if he is on our side.” He’s pleading but, pride be damned, he doesn’t want to wait any longer. “Can you at least miracle a mirror into his room?”

“I can miracle a mirror into any of their rooms at any time.” The summoner smirks. “I can grant you this if it will ease your conscious. You swear it won’t back-fire on us?”

“You have my word.” The relief floods his body, or at least his essence. He’s finally going to be able to make this right. “And if it back-fires we finish this tonight.”

“No, if it backfires, you kill him.” They watch him with a cold sort of intimidation, as if expecting him to verbally rebel against what they say. It would be no use if he did, they both know he can’t disobey physically. To do so would be to return to oblivion. “I need the rest of them rounded up in the same place for a single wave of slaughter. I already have the wheels for that in motion.”

There is a pause as they consider what’s to come next and then the summoner waves their hand.

“Now go. He’s still awake. Don’t give him time to remove this mirror as well.” The summoner snaps their fingers, the ripple of a miracle sparking from the movement. “I have a few other fish to fry. But not to worry, I promised to leave Crowley’s misery to you.”

“Thank you.” And with that, the half-life creature is gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No one died this chapter! Yay! Sorry that's about to change soon. We're gonna find out who the mirror creature is next chapter and with that a sad confrontation between himself and his next victim.


	15. Chapter 15

**12:50AM, HST**

Hastur hadn’t been in the room when it happened, he had, instead, been down the hall in the loo. It took him several moments after returning to his newly issued personal space before the presence of the tall full-length floor mirror caught his attention.

“Ligur?” The unhooded presence on the opposite side of the looking glass causing any thought of fleeing to do just that from Hastur’s mind.

“Hello love.” Ligur approaches the edge of the glass and Hastur instinctively moves to meet him.

“How? How are you here?”

The half-resurrected demon fills his former lover in on the details, of who has summoned him and of why, all the while fully emerging into Hastur’s room. Ligur meets him not far from the mirror’s edge and takes his long-term companion into his arms. “So, will you join us in destroying them all?”

“You killed Beelzebub, murdered my child and my best friend.” Hastur feels his heart shatter as he realizes, this is his past. Ligur is a part of who he _was_ , from a time in his life when he cared for nothing but the pain and suffering of others. Not who he is now, a demon who loves to make others uncomfortable, to make others squirm, but his days of cruelty and should he say _evil_ are far behind him. “I can’t”

_“Your best friend!?”_ Ligur curls his lip in a sneer, his grip becomes dangerously tighter. “It’s best you not deny this request, I’ve been ordered to kill you if you do.”

“Then kill me.” Hastur gives up and goes limp in his arms. How had he ever been like this? No, he ain’t some saint like Crowley and the rest, but he and Sandalphon had it right. A life of being bastards, assholes, that was the way of it for him. He doesn’t want to go back to being something worse than that. “You’ve already robbed me of my mentor, my child and my companion.”

“ _I_ am your companion.” Ligur snarls. “You would replace me so quickly? Side with the angels and the scrawny git who murdered me?”

“It wasn’t murder, it was self-defense.” Hastur’s never felt such pain saying this truth out loud to Ligur of all beings. “I wish it had been me first through that door, I really do. Or that I had known then the things that I know now, so that maybe you could have been given the chance to grow emotionally too. But the demon I used to be when I was with you is gone and the one I am now can’t approve of what you’re doing. I had to move on, you were my past, Sandalphon and my child were my future. I have nothing, not anymore, not since that past stole my future.”

“Worthless.” Hastur feels the celestial steel as it’s buried between his shoulder blades, followed by Ligur dropping him to the floor and stalking away. “Can’t believe I wasted so much time with the likes of you.”

Hastur watches as his former lover vanishes within the glass. When he’s sure he’s completely alone, the demon pushes himself onto his hands and knees and crawls toward the nightstand and the stationary sitting there. With all the strength he has left, Hastur grabs the pen and paper and proceeds to scribble a few letters before the holy power consumes him and his essence burns away in a bright and blinding light.

* * *

**3:30AM, HST**

Aziraphale vaguely remembers falling asleep after he and Crowley made it safely to the room and the demon secured the door behind them. The duo changed into their night clothes and after their typical ‘I love you’s’, Aziraphale’s exhaustion had set in and even through his anxiety and worry, the angel quickly drifted off to sleep.

He’s not sure what it is that has awakened him only these few hours later, but he’s certain something must have. He lays listening, trying to decipher what’s different, what may have pulled him from the calming embrace of sleep, and that’s when Aziraphale notices that Crowley is no longer holding him.

“Love?” The angel rolls to face his husband’s side of the bed, only to find it empty. He pushes himself into a sitting position and scans the room which is jarringly darker than usual. Puzzling through this development the principality realizes the full moon that customarily shines over Heaven every night is not there.

“Crowley?” Aziraphale begins to panic just a bit. Heaven rarely ever leaves the sky completely dark. It’s the only part of their sky simulation they’ve never made entirely earth-like. “Darling, where are you?”

He pushes himself from the bed to search for his other half. Crowley seems to have vacated the room entirely, as it comes to Aziraphale’s attention that the bedroom door is open. The dim lights from the hallway have been extinguished as well, but in the distance a light shines from beneath the bathroom door.

Aziraphale finds it strange that Crowley would leave their bedroom door unsecured. Crowley has always been more concerned with Aziraphale’s safety above anything else, as the last few days’ arguments would reinforce. The demon would have never left his angel vulnerable and exposed as he is, not unless something had happened to him. These unwanted thoughts leading to Aziraphale’s renewing sense of dread, as he timidly steps out of their bedroom and begins his trek towards the lone slit of illumination burning roughly seven meters away.

The light is just enough to play strange games with the darkness around the angel. The closer Aziraphale gets to the door, the more the shadows shift and give the startling inclination of movement. It doesn’t help his anxieties that he also remains diligently aware that any room he creeps past in the dark may, at this very moment, contain a deranged murderer.

His love for his demon is stronger than any fear that may falter his steps. It’s that love that pushes him onward, prepared to face any danger set before him if the alternative is his husband’s lack of safety.

After what feels like another six millennia, Aziraphale arrives at the washroom door. Tapping gentle the door moves in response to his knocking, showing itself to be ajar.

“Crowley?” Aziraphale squeaks. He reminds himself that Gabriel had removed the large mirror from over the sink. Still, the few times he had been forced to use the facilities since his attack, Crowley had walked with his angel and stationed himself just outside the door.

“Darling?” Aziraphale pushes the door fully open to find the area empty, mirror still gone and no sign of his husband.

He runs his palm over his face and contemplates whether he should wake the other inhabitants of the suite or continue on to check the sitting room and library first. He fears wasting any time if something has happened to the being he loves, but unsure if in doing so he would be overreacting.

“Aziraphale.” Crowley’s voice calls weakly to him from their bedroom. It's barely audible but enough to send Aziraphale running full force in the direction from which he had only minutes ago come.

Rushing back into the bedroom, the angel finds the area as empty as before. He hustles to the closet, pulling open the door to find it empty. Spinning in confusion, Aziraphale notices the movement in the window.

He hadn’t paid attention earlier, but the lack of light outside has caused the glass to become reflective. Bouncing back to him is a distorted vision of the room in which he stands. Aziraphale gasps, moving hurriedly, all his previous fears gone at the sight of Crowley in the hooded figures arms just beyond the glass barrier.

“Angel, run.” His demon begs, apparently injured and weakened from whatever the vile creature has done to him. “It’s to late for me, go.”

“Stop!” Aziraphale ignores his husband’s pleas and, arriving at the window, knocks violently against the glass, desperate to get to the fallen angel he’s loved for millennia.

His knocking becomes more persistent when the hooded thing takes Crowley by the hair and holds a needle and syringe to the redhead’s temple. The monster lifts it’s head, revealing the strong jawline Aziraphale had seen at his own attack and nothing more. The angel expects it to speak but instead the monster’s words reach into his mind without the moving of lips.

“Holy water, principality.” Aziraphale’s thrashing grows more frenzied as he comprehends what is about to be injected directly into Crowley’s brain. “Eye for an eye, traitor.”

Crowley reaches out to him as the needle is pressed into the soft layer of skin just above his snake mark. His face is contorted into a mix of fear and regret. “I love you Dove. Please angel, go. I don’t want him to get you, and I don’t want you to see this.”

Aziraphale can only shake his head, tears streaming over his plush cheeks as he begs, nearly incoherently, for this harbinger of death to stop. The angel claws at the glass, witnessing the moment when Crowley’s eyes shift from distraught fear and his features contort into blinding pain. The demon screams as the liquid dissolves his essence.

Aziraphale stops fighting against the barrier and raises his hands to cover his mouth when Crowley’s body goes limp. The creatures mouth twists into a sadistic smile and Aziraphale yelps as the broken empty core that had once held his dear demon’s kind soul is thrown against the glass directly in front of him and then drops to the boardwalk below.

* * *

**Moments Earlier**

Crowley hasn’t slept this little in ages but he can’t bring himself to do so. Not when the killer could be down the hall or in the sitting room of this very suite. He lay on his side, curled around his angel, Aziraphale’s protector from whatever dangers exist in the darkness.

Aziraphale’s back is pressed against Crowley’s chest and the demon rests his hands over the swell of his husband’s stomach. He nuzzles his nose into the soft down of blond curls and listens to the steady rhythm of his sleeping angel’s breathing.

_I love you. In only a few hours more, we will be home, safe and no one will be able to hurt you again._

Aziraphale whimpers in the embrace and Crowley wonders if the angel is having another of his nightmares.

“I’m sorry.” Crowley whispers against Aziraphale’s scalp. “You’ve been hurting and I haven’t taken you seriously. From this day on, it’s you first. Before duty, before honor, before anyone or anything else, it will be what you want and need. Like it used to be between us for millennia.”

“Crowley.” The angel whispers, the utterance sounding desperate. Crowley lifts himself onto his elbow to get a better view of his husband’s face.

Aziraphale’s brow is creased in concern, his eyes scrunching in the corners as if he’s in pain. Crowley presses his lips to the angel’s temple, whispering softly in hopes of calming his love’s sleep. “Angel, love. We’re safe, soon we’ll be home.”

“Stop.” Aziraphale sounds desperate and he reaches out to the mattress and begins clawing at the sheets.

“Shhh, Dove it’s okay.” Crowley shakes Aziraphale lightly, hoping to bring him gently from whatever terror he’s trapped in. “I’m right here, I’m fine.”

The angel jerks beneath him, apparently fighting against some unseen attacker.

“Aziraphale.” Crowley says, not loudly but well above his previous whisper. He needs Aziraphale to wake up, the angel shouldn’t be forced to suffer from a dream this intense. “Wake up.”

**_KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK…….._ **

Aziraphale is finally pulled into consciousness with a yelp as the steady stream of pounding continues non-stop against the bedroom door.

“Just a moment!” Crowley calls out to their late night visitor more worried about the angel who is currently leaping from the bed and rushing towards the large window. Crowley follows as the insistent knocking continues.

“Aziraphale, Dove. Be careful not to trip.” Crowley hovers behind his husband, who seems to be ignoring the worried demon behind him while tugging at the window's curtains, pulling them shut.

Once this task is complete and none of the glass is still visible, the angel turns to face his demon hands working in a flurry of movements over his husband’s body. “You’re alright. You’re here and you’re alright.”

“I’m fine Aziraphale.” Crowley’s voice is gentle when addressing his husband. Turning to the barrage of knocks he screams out. “We hear you! Give us a moment blessit!”

“It killed you.” The angel is crying, pulling a bewildered Crowley into his arms. “I watched it kill you.”

“No one killed me, love.” Crowley murmurs, lips pressed into the soft skin of Aziraphale’s neck. He’s relieved to hear, or rather not hear, that the blessed knocking has stopped. “I’m fine. _We’re_ fine. It was only a nightmare Aziraphale.”

“No.” Aziraphale’s tears fall wet and heavy into Crowley’s hair. “I think it was a warning.”

“Shhhhh, Dove.” Crowley pulls his head up slowly, giving Aziraphale time to adjust his own face away from the movement. Looking his Angel in those big, beautiful eyes he assures. “There is nothing to fear, we’ll be home in just a few hours. No one is going to hurt you, me or the nugget.” He nods, never breaking the hold he has on Aziraphale’s gaze, hoping to calm his angel. “Do you trust me?”

“Yes.” Aziraphale’s breathing is staggered and rough. He nods in return. “Yes, my dearest, I trust you with my life.”

“Good.” Crowley kisses him with a quick brushing of lips.

“Good!” Adam calls from the other side of the door. “Now, can you open up!? I have something I need you to do.”

“Don’t leave this room.” Aziraphale says low enough that only Crowley can hear him. “No matter what his request, _do not_ go out there. Please my love.”

“Not planning on it.” Crowley runs his hands up and down Aziraphale’s arms. “I’m staying in this room with you until it is time to leave for the landing pad.”

He waits until Aziraphale relaxes, before stepping away and to the door. He turns the handle, coming face to face with an agitated anti-christ. “What can we help you with Adam?”

“I need you both to come with me to track down Pepper.” Adam’s eyes are blood-shot and glassy. “She still hasn’t come back to the room.”

“I don’t think so bud.” Crowley shakes his head. “You said yourself that you don’t want people involved in your marital issues. And even if you hadn’t, neither of us want pulled into the center of that nonsense.”

“I’ve changed my mind. I’m ordering you to help me.” Adam lifts his head and crosses his arms over his chest. Crowley gets a brief mental image of the defiant child he once knew and fights the urge to grin.

“Or what?” Crowley stretches his hand behind him for Aziraphale to take and the angel does just that, moving to stand at Crowley’s side. “You’ll fire me?”

“I might.” The half-human’s eyes spark.

“Wouldn’t the public wonder why you’d fired such a loyal advisor? A celebrity looked up to by most of your demonic and close to half your angelic demographic.” Aziraphale comes to his husband’s aid. “Not to mention the full support we both have of the dual-supernatural demographic.”

“Yeah.” Crowley gives his once friend a smug grin. “Would hate for them to find out why you fired me as well. The media would love to hear about those indiscretions.”

“Do what you want.” Adam huffs, dropping his arms to his side. “But your career with me is over.”

“S’fine.” Crowley shrugs, followed by words he never thought he’d utter. “Fairly certain Gabriel will hire me.”

Adam sputters, his eyes hinting at a circle of red around the pupils. Crowley moves his body slowly in front of Aziraphale, always the shield and ready in place. Instead of hellish retribution, Adam turns on his heels and storms down the hall. Calling over his shoulder, he says. “I’ll find her myself.”

Crowley shuts the door and latches it behind him. Once he’s certain they are secure, he falls again into Aziraphale’s arms.

* * *

**2:15PM, HST**

They stand, the only two in the earthbound sigil, waiting for Adam to show and perform the spell Wensleydale had found to send them all home. Aziraphale would feel more comfortable if they could just get this over with. The groups standing in their individual circles have been waiting for close to an hour now. It seems that earth's leader is nowhere to be found.

Aziraphale’s only comfort is Crowley, running his hand along the angel’s spine and reassuring him that nothing could go wrong. “He’s only pouting Aziraphale. Doing this on purpose to put us on edge after last night.”

“How can you be so certain?” Aziraphale leans in close to his husband’s ear, both of them keeping a watchful eye on Yemuel who has appeared at the forefront of the spectating crowd. “Perhaps Adam _is_ the culprit. If you’ll notice, Pepper isn’t present either. What if he has done something to her?”

“She’s perfectly safe.” Crowley reassures. “Brian and Isla are missing as well. She is most likely with the two of them.” Crowley glances over Aziraphale’s head. “Or she’s right there.”

He points to where the crowd is parting. From the gap steps Pepper and a rather lovely, rather pregnant demon, the two holding hands.

Aziraphale watches, more than a little confused as the duo step into the earth circle with them. Pepper smiles and gestures to the demon beside her. “Aziraphale, Crowley, this is Arakiel.”

“Pleasure.” Arakiel offers her hand to her new acquaintances and smiles.

“I’m confused.” Crowley points with his free hand to the pregnant demon. “She was a secretary under Dagon, not a member of earth.” Moving his digit to Pepper. “And you’re not a member of a dual-supernatural couple.”

“I’m taking her back as my partner.” Arakiel’s eyes flick to Pepper. “In what context is no one else’s business.”

“And I’m taking her to the home I bought seven and a half months ago and put in my name.” Pepper stands tall and defiant. “Purchased it right before Adam and me made up, never told him.”

“Where _is_ Adam?” Aziraphale looks into the crowd, hoping their power-source home will soon appear. Instead all he sees is a very flustered Gabriel, Dagon and Uriel attempting to calm frightened families and angry bystanders. “He came to us last night saying he was going to find you.”

Pepper tilts her head. “I haven’t seen him.”

Behind Pepper and Arakiel the crowd parts again and makes way for a panicked Isla who immediately grabs onto Gabriel’s arms. She begins speaking loud and animatedly. “He’s gone. He’s left us all here and gone.”

“Who?” Aziraphale steps forward, already knowing the answer before he asks.

“Adam.” She says. The human struggles to catch her breath, looking about in desperation. “He came to my room around four this morning. Brian and I were inside talking. Adam murdered Brian and locked me in the room, he put a seal on the door that didn't break until fifteen minutes ago. I watched him from the window come to the landing pad and miracle himself home.”

The crowd erupts and Gabriel holds up a hand for the masses to listen. Once the noise quiets he begins. “I know this is frustrating, but with the culprit gone we are all safe. There are enough resources here to take care of everyone until we can find an alternate way to send you home.”

“He’s not the only one!” Isla looks on the edge of tears. “Adam has an accomplice who is capable of moving through the reflective surfaces. They’re still here.”

“Did he say who that person is?” Crowley’s grip on Aziraphale tightens.

“He did.” Isla nods, face flush but she finally seems to have caught her breath. “A demon named Ligur.”

“Ligur?!” Dagon shouts. “Oh Satan. Hastur!”

She bolts, followed by Uriel, Gabriel, Crowley and Aziraphale. Whether through Hastur becoming a threat or another casualty, their core group most likely just got another demon smaller.


	16. Chapter 16

Crowley hadn’t been aware the Duke of Hell’s absence at the landing pad but Hastur’s presence is one he’s always tried, and over the years became very good, at ignoring. Now a part of him feels guilty for it.

Deep down Crowley knows he’s partially responsible for Hastur’s surly mood over the past two decades. Even though his actions had been in self-defense, he had still taken his former boss’ partner and mate. Crowley couldn’t have forgiven anyone who might have done the same to Aziraphale. Not that Crowley regrets killing Ligur, especially when the alternative is his own life and happiness, but he can still feel empathy for the other demon’s plight.

When they finally return to the suite on the sixtieth floor, it’s with only two demons and three angels in tow. Crowley realizes the humans and Pepper’s new demon friend have not made the hurried journey back with them.

“Check Isla’s room for Brian’s body and get it to the forensics area.” Gabriel instructs Uriel who nods without question and does as instructed.

“Why didn’t the humans follow?” Aziraphale openly expresses Crowley’s own thoughts.

“Most likely to keep the others outside under control and out of the hotel.” Dagon says without looking at him, pushing the unlocked door of Hastur’s room open. “And thank Satan they did, would help avoid extra conflict.”

“Should someone go with Uriel?” Aziraphale continues his questions and Crowley squeezes his Angel’s hand.

“Might be best.” Gabriel agrees. Laying his hand on Dagon’s shoulder he says. “Crowley, Aziraphale and I have this room. Why don’t you follow your partner?”

“Gladly.” Dagon looks beyond relieved. “Thank you.”

The Lord of Files turns back out of the room and the remaining trio step into full view of the crime scene. Hastur lays face down on the floor beside his bed, an open wound in the center top portion of his back and a pen and notepad clutched in his hands. Crowley moves to the lifeless body and pulls the fingers away from the small wad of paper.It reads:

“What is it?” Aziraphale leans over his shoulder.

“Looks like Hastur wrote us a note.” Crowley says, turning the paper around. “But his penmanship is so Satan-awful.” He passes the note to Aziraphale. “Can you make out what this is supposed to be?”

“It is a twirl?” Gabriel is suddenly over Aziraphale’s shoulder, causing the principality to jump and let out a tiny yelp.

“I think it says ‘It is a Ligur’ but that’s just poor grammar.” Aziraphale huffs, giving the archangel a disdainful eye-roll.

“Or is it ‘It is A’ maybe for the beginning of Adam and then Ligur below it.” Crowley taps the paper, still in Aziraphale’s grasp, with his index finger.

“Well, we can both agree he’s telling us one of the culprits is Ligur. Although Gabriel seems to think we are being warned of some sort of dancing.” Aziraphale offers the paper back to his husband while casting his former boss a sarcastic smirk. “Not that this clue is important anymore. We already know this information.”

“I’m keeping it though.” Crowley folds the parchment and places it into his pocket. “You never can tell what might be useful later.”

“Do you think he brought this in here or someone placed it when he was out?” Gabriel asks causing Crowley and Aziraphale to look at whatever it is he’s referring.

“Oh, oh God.” Aziraphale clutches both of his hands around Crowley’s bicep at the sight of the full-size mirror. “We moved all mirrors out of the suite. How did that end up here?”

“My guess.” Crowley steps from Aziraphale’s hold, moving closer to the looking glass as he speaks. “Adam miracled it in here while Hastur was sleeping.”

“Crowley, stop.” Aziraphale reaches after him, his soft hands attempting to take hold of his husband’s and pull him back. “Don’t go near that wretched thing.”

“Yeah.” Crowley pauses, thinking better of himself and moves back to take Aziraphale’s hand. He allows his angel to pull him back near where Gabriel again stands beside the body. “Probably be a good idea to get as far from Ligur’s portal as possible.”

“I agree.” Gabriel’s cell phone rings and he reaches into his jacket pocket to retrieve it. As he swipes the screen to answer and place it to his ear, he points to Crowley with his free hand and says. “Move Hastur into the forensics room, then tell Dagon and Uriel I want the four of you to meet me back here.”

“I’ll move Hastur’s body.” Crowley leans in close, whispering in Aziraphale’s ear. “You eavesdrop on his conversation. Still don’t entirely trust him to let us know everything.”

“He may not be the murderer in this current situation.” Aziraphale whispers back. “But I don’t trust him at all. I remember when he had his own murderous streak in him.”

Crowley kisses Aziraphale’s temple. “You’re right. Sod his conversation, it’s probably a good idea that I not leave you alone with him and the mirror. Follow me, best to be safe.”

“Yes.” The angel squeezes Crowley’s hand. “Best to be safe.”

* * *

Serial killer or not, the past few days have left a large number of angelic and demonic beings in danger. “Traditional” angelic couples, as many of them have begun to refer to themselves, have left any and all semblance of decency behind and are openly spewing hate towards demons, members of demonic/angelic unions and those union’s offspring alike. Some “traditional” demonic couples are doing the same to their counterparts and latter mentioned groups, only on a much smaller scale.

Pepper, Wensleydale, Arakiel and Isla watch as the crowd outside looms on the edge of complete chaos and they come to a collective plan. Pepper pulls her cellular from her back pocket and calls the archangel in charge of it all now, seeing as Adam is gone.

“Pepper.” Gabriel sounds flustered for once and Pepper knows that doesn’t bode well for Brian or Hastur. Not that she didn’t believe Isla about Brian, it’s just a hard pill to swallow honestly. She forces herself to listen as Gabriel asks. “Everything okay out there?”

“No.” Pepper scans the three separate crowds. Large portions of two of the self-sectioned off groups are yelling obscenities at the other two groups. Smaller portions of these two groups are standing sheepishly behind their more vocal members. The third group, the one that has been waiting on the landing pad since early that morning, are slowly filing themselves inside the dance hall for safety. “We’re on the edge of a battle out here. We’ve decided to move all the dual couples and families inside the dance hall for safety. But the other demons and angels are at one another’s throats, almost like the old days. We want to send them into the hotel, but how do we keep them separated as well?”

“The families and individuals left outside are a much smaller group than the ones in the dance hall, right?” He sounds tired, his fake corporate chirp gone from his voice.

“Yeah.” Pepper feels overwhelmed herself by the sea of celestial beings that have remained outside. “And not all of them are wanting to fight. It’s mostly the angels. Very, very few of the troublemakers seem to be demons.”

“How few of the demons are being aggressive?”

“Maybe a hundred out of the remaining thousands.”

“Good, we can manage that.” Gabriel muffles the phone and speaks to someone behind them. Pepper hears what sounds like Dagon sobbing and the archangel speak soft condolences before his attention is brought back to the phone conversation. “And the aggressive angels?”

“I’d say half or more.”

Gabriel makes a hissing noise, like he’s sucking air in through clenched teeth. “Not _as_ manageable, but nothing we can’t work with.”

“So, how do you want us to proceed?” Pepper covers the mouthpiece and points to her three companions. “Get them ready to separate. I’ll tell you to where to send them as soon as I know.”

“Move the non-aggressive demons into the dancehall with the other families already there.” Gabriel sighs, pausing a moment and continues. “I’ll post Wensleydale, Aziraphale and Crowley with that group. We’ll bring the aggressive demons to my suite and put Dagon and Isla over that.”

“Then we can separate the non-aggressive and aggressive angels in the hotel.” Pepper adds when Gabriel pauses in thought too long. “The angry ones on floors 2-29 and the not-angry ones on 31-59. This will leave a floor in between them and the lobby with posted guards to keep the groups apart.”

“I like it.” Gabriel still sounds tense but a bit more like himself. “You and Arakiel in the lobby, Uriel and myself on the stairwell outside the 30th floor. And shut down the lifts so the only ways in and out of the floors are through the stairwells. It’ll keep any interlopers from sneaking past.”

“When do you want this mass-migration enacted?” Pepper eyeballs some angelic creep in Arakiel’s face. She may need to throw hands when she gets off the call.

“Let us finish up here and meet you down there.” There is shuffling behind Gabriel and the sound of Aziraphale speaking. Gabriel gives him time to finish and then directs his attention again to Pepper. “Aziraphale wants to grab some books on spells and sorcery from my library that might assist us in stopping a half-alive, creepy, mirror, demon, monster thing.”

“Smart. Just don’t take too long, the masses are getting wild.” With that Pepper hangs up the device, shoves it back into her pocket and rushes to Arakiel’s aid.

* * *

**9:12 PM, HST**

Dagon’s nerves are on edge. She understands why Gabriel chose Uriel to stand with him thirty floors below, but it doesn’t mean she has to like it. She also realizes what a privilege it is to be left in charge of Gabriel’s suite, a sign of absolute trust from the archangel gifted to herself. Even if she feels large amounts of anxiety about being separated from Uriel, she means to make her lover proud.

Uriel has always bolstered the highest respect for her former employer in Heaven and Dagon wishes to please her by gaining Gabriel’s respect as well.

However, it would be a whole Heaven of a lot easier if she wasn’t stuck partnered with a whiney, overly dramatic human.

“I’ve known her since freshman year of college. Stood by her through everything, and I never thought she’s stoop to this.” Isla mewls. Dagon had gotten all their angry suite-mates to quiet down and go to bed around a quarter hour prior. The moment the two of them have a quiet moment, Isla began to cry about Pepper and the human’s new friend.

“Stoop to what?” Dagon counters, unable to hide her offense. “A demon? Don’t tell me you’re like some of those assholes on the lower floors?”

“No.” Isla turns red. “ _That’s_ not what I mean at all. I mean why stoop to her cheating husband’s tramp.”

“Oh.” Dagon leans forward in her seat on the sofa, a smirk quirking up the right side of her face. “You like her.”

The red flush fades from Isla’s face and she appears at first surprised, immediately followed by pleased and then extremely relaxed. Dagon thinks it an odd reaction in the circumstances, but she’s never had to deal much with still living humans on a social level. Isla leans back into the sofa cushion directly across from Dagon at the opposite end of the half-circle design. “In fact, yes. That’s it exactly. I’m in love with Pepper.”

“Jealousy’s a bitch.” Dagon rests her chin in her hand. She pays no mind to the ting of magical energy that shoots past her and down the long hall. “Dealt with it enough from my ex.”

“I don’t want to discuss this anymore.” Isla stands abruptly and flicks her wrist. “I’m going to bed, ding my cell if anything comes up.”

“Uh, sure.” Dagon curls her nose at the rude departure and murmurs. “Humans are so fucking weird.”

* * *

**Stairwell outside the Thirtieth Floor**

“Wasn’t sure if you’d still be speaking to me.” Gabriel dropped his eyes when Uriel turns to look at him.

“Why wouldn’t I be speaking to you?” Her former colleague and longest known friend sometimes doesn’t make sense. Especially over the past eighteen years. What most see as self-confident narcissism, Uriel recognizes as terrified self-doubt and the need to over-compensate.

“Because of my whole, trying to date Beelzebub thing.” He looks over the railing beside him. They had stationed themselves in the stairwell to block any of the racist, aggressive inhabitants from the bottom floor getting the idea to create trouble on the upper floors and vice-versa. It’s why Pepper and Arakiel are in the lobby to keep anyone from wandering to the hotel from the dance hall or the reverse as well.

“I don’t care who tried to date Beelzebub, got them off Dagon’s case.” She punches him on the arm. “But you make the moves on Dagon and we got us some problems.”

“You’re safe there.” Gabriel lifts his gaze to meet her eyes, and they’re brimming with tears. “Learned my lesson after the way Michael reacted.”

“What happened to Michael and Beelzebub isn’t your fault.” Uriel isn’t what one would call the soft and gentle type. At least not with most beings. It would surprise others to know though, she can be quite compassionate and huggy with those she feels close to. This is why Gabriel finds himself pulled into an embrace and shamelessly sobbing on her shoulder. “You shouldn’t hold these emotions in.”

“Michael knew I had a thing for them way before Dagon and Beez ever split. Why get mad at me for sabotaging her sabotage of me? I waited, honorably I might add, for Beez and Dagon to break-up before taking my shot.” He sniffles and Uriel ignores the dampness pooling at the top of her sleeve. “Is it my fault? Was it because of me, that none of us were paying attention to that water? That Michael was alone instead of safe in my suite when she died?”

“None of it was because of you.” She pats him on the upper, middle of his back. “Adam lost control, there wasn’t any-.”

She’s cut off by the clang of a door opening from below, followed by the sound of heavy bootsteps. Uriel and Gabriel pull apart, preparing themselves to deal with whatever trouble-maker has decided to create more of a ruckus with beings who have done no more than disagree with their views.

Uriel recognizes the angel when he tops the landing on which she and the other archangel stand. It’s the hotel receptionist that’s been causing issues for Aziraphale and Crowley. She holds up her right hand, palm out, indicating for him to stop. “Can we help you?”

“Just, uh.” He stumbles through his words, looking around as if his answer might be floating around him. “Looking for someone.”

“I can assure you, they’re not upstairs.” Gabriel stands at his full height. “No one has passed this way since we’ve separated everyone for their own safety.”

“I think he may have been placed up there before the separation.” The receptionist angel looks tense.

“Listen, uh?” Uriel isn’t sure how to address him.

“Yemuel.”

“Thanks. Listen Yemuel, everyone was vacated from upstairs before we assigned areas.” Uriel doesn’t like the crazed glint in the angel’s eyes. His features are calm but she can sense something almost feral from deep within him. “So, I promise you, the angel you’re looking for is not up there.”

The three angels tense at the strange tingle of static which shoots past them and up the stairs. Yemuel coughs and turns to retreat. “You’re right. He wouldn’t be around that group up there. Never thought it through.”

As he hurries away the two archangels lean over the railing and watch his retreat until he’s too far descended to make out any longer.

“You think he’s going to the lobby?” Uriel sighs, pushing away from the railing.

“I’d bet on it. Nothing Pepper and Arakiel can’t handle” Gabriel moves his eyes from where Yemuel has disappeared and looks up in the direction the previous jolt of magic had gone. “I’m more interested in what felt like a miracle whizzing by me.”

“I felt that too.” Uriel follows as Gabriel begins to climb the stairwell to investigate. “You think Adam came back, or that he restored Ligur to his full powers?”

“I aim to find out.” He pauses and twists his upper body to face her. “You stay here and keep beings like Yemuel from making trouble.”

* * *

“Maybe you would’ve been safer at the dance hall with Crowley and Aziraphale.” Pepper frets, she and Arakiel are sitting side by side on an ornate sofa in the lobby. From this position they can see the entryway to the hotel as well as the door to the stairwell.

“At this point, I honestly think I’m safest with you.” Arakiel lays her hand over top her companions. “Pretty foolish of me, do you think?”

“Ours isn’t a relational progression that most would expect.” Pepper flips her hand over so their fingers can entwine. “But I don’t mind. Think it’s the shared betrayal that did it?”

“Maybe.” The demon focus remains on their hands. “You believe in Fate? That all things, good or bad, happen to lead us where and to the beings we are meant to be with?”

“Maybe.” Pepper smiles, Arakiel lifts her gaze and does the same. “I say we don’t question it though. Haven’t felt this excited about anything in close to fifteen years.”

“Do you feel safe with me too?” Arakiel moves closer and Pepper’s breath catches in a moment of confusion and heat.

“I just said this is the best I’ve felt in years.” Pepper inhales deeply, trying to calm her pounding heart.

“You said most excited.” Arakiel is close enough their thighs are touching, near enough Pepper can see the trembling way she exhales. “Excited doesn’t mean comfortable or safe.” The demon places her free hand on the human’s shoulder. “Do you trust that I won’t let anyone hurt you?”

“Yes.” Pepper closes the small bit of distance between them and her lips brush lightly over her companion’s. Arakiel returns the kiss just as the loud crash of the stairwell bursting open ruins the moment.

Pepper releases Arakiel’s hand and jumps to her feet, taking a protective stance in front of the still sitting demon. She recognizes the beefy angel plowing towards them as the same asshole that has been harassing Aziraphale.

“Where exactly do you think you’re going?” Pepper straightens her back and attempts to sound as commanding as possible.

“He’s not here either.” Yemuel stalks by the couple like he doesn’t even register they’re there, let alone one of them spoke. “Of course, they’d put him with all the others. Keep him with the corrupted, brainwashed masses.”

“You need to stop right there, buddy.” Arakiel steps around Pepper and into Yemuel’s path, brandishing the hellfire lighter they’d pulled off Hastur’s body earlier. “I know exactly who you think you’re going after, and not a one of us is gonna let you get to him.”

“You want to fight me, little demon-slut?” Yemuel’s stare is cold and an icy fear shoots through Pepper. She moves to stand beside her demon.

“Don’t think it’ll be much of a fight.” Arakiel flicks the flint to life. Plucking the flame from the tip, she rolls it across her fingers in the same way Hastur had, creating a spherical, angel killing projectile. “I think it would be in your best interest to return to your room, or else my friend here is going to need to cuff you and take you to our designated holding cell.”

“And if I refuse to do either?” Yemuel leers and Pepper wants to rip his eyes from his head.

“I don’t think any of us will enjoy the outcome of that.” Arakiel rolls the hellfire until it is as large as Yemuel’s head. “But if that’s the route you want to take.”

The angel glares for another ten seconds more, flexing his hands open and closed before turning around and making his way back to the stairs. “I’ll save him sooner or later. He deserves me, not the brainwashing that demon has given him.”

As soon as the threat is gone from sight, Arakiel flicks her wrist, extinguishing the flame. With the flame gone she slumps against Pepper. “You think he’s just some crazed, prejudiced fanatic obsessed with the principality or something worse?”

“If you’re Aziraphale I’m not sure there is something worse.” Pepper sinks to the sofa, holding Arakiel to her side. With her free hand she grabs her cellphone. “Which is why I think Aziraphale needs to know what just happened.”

As the phone rings through the both of them shiver, the air electrifies and shifts around them. “What was that?”

“Hello.” Aziraphale answers his phone and Pepper is drawn into talking to him, trying to ignore the idea that a miracle somehow just shot by.


	17. Chapter 17

The building, that on any other year might have been used for dancing and fun, is now an enormous safehouse. The lower floor is huge, big enough to comfortably entertain all the Hosts of Heaven, Legions of Hell, their families and a few humans. The area contains an expansive polished dance floor, kitchen, halls to storage for decorations and a dining area.

On the upper floor, connected to the lower by a hidden stairwell to the far, back, left hallway, is a sound and lighting room. This is where Crowley has decided to move Aziraphale and Wensleydale, along with their books, until they can be certain how much of a threat Yemuel poses.

“I think I should stay with you.” Aziraphale argues, while following his husband down the dark hallway to the stairs leading to the sound room, the demon’s arms laden with books. “I’m certain you felt that ripple of magic earlier. I’m prone to believe Adam has returned and Yemuel is the least of our problems.”

“Unless Yemuel’s working with the hell-spawn.” Crowley rounds the first of two flight landings. “Once you’re settled, I want you to do that window thing you did in 1967.”

Aziraphale chuckles. The window thing Crowley is referring to, is how the angel hid himself in Crowley’s Bentley the night of the holy water trade-off. Aziraphale has the ability to shield his presence if he is on the opposite side of glass from whomever it is he wishes to hide. “I’m afraid that will be impossible, my love. No miracles, remember?”

“A miracle shot through here not thirty minutes ago.” Crowley pushes the door to the sound room open and hands off the books to Wensleydale who has been waiting and organizing all the literature already brought up. “At least try and see if you can. I’ll be downstairs, hopefully my presence will be enough to keep everyone calm. You both stay here and stay safe.”

Aziraphale catches Crowley by the arm and kisses him. “I’ll be looking among the crowd for you periodically. If it seems as though you need help, I’ll be coming back to stand by your side.”

“And if you need me, you message or call me.” Crowley pats the pocket with his cell. “You focus on finding a way to stop Ligur.”

“We’re going to get through this?” Aziraphale doesn’t mean for it to come out like a question, but with the way things have gone, every moment he grows less and less sure.

“We’re going to get through this.” Crowley seals the statement with a reassuring kiss. Pulling back, he stares at Aziraphale with determination. “And I’m going to get us home.”

* * *

Isla is upset. Upset about Dagon nearly uncovering her business, but more than that upset with herself for giving the demon reason to question. She’s let her own shock at her former best friend’s behavior nearly give her away. She’s so deep in her internal scolding and mumbling to herself, she pays no attention to the hooded being as she enters her assigned room and passes the mirror she had only moments ago miracled there. “Thank Lilith they’re too obsessed with petty relationship drama to see my anger for what it really is.”

“I don’t think Lilith has much to do with it.” Ligur drawls from within the glass and Isla spins to face him, not yet expecting his arrival. “But I don’t know her ways quite like you do, so I could be wrong.”

“I’m impressed.” Isla tells Ligur. “I didn’t expect you to handle Hastur as well as you did. You’ve proven your loyalty well beyond my expectations.”

“Then you’ll bring me back to my full power?” Ligur lets the hood fall off his head and against his back.

“Is that still what you want?” She looks the demon over approvingly, pleased with her choice of cohorts.

“I do.” He flicks his head in the direction of the hallway. “Will you be using Dagon, since she’s available, or are one of the other demons present also a fallen archangel?”

“I say we use Adam to get you back to your former strength. He’s half fallen archangel.” Isla flicks her wrist and the dagger and vial appear on her bed. “No one will notice his absence now and afterwards we can use Crowley and Dagon to make you something even greater than you ever were.”

“So that I can serve by your side?” Ligur’s eyes shift through a beautiful array of neon colors.

“My second in command for eternity.” She grabs up the tools she’ll need to steal Adam’s very essence, and steps through the looking glass as if it were nothing more than a wall of water. “And this time, no more hypocrisy and filthy hybrids. No longer will the mistakes of my parents be made.”

* * *

**17 Hours Earlier**

“How dare he!” Adam fumes at Crowley’s refusal. He vents this anger in whispered shouts as he wanders down the hall, fully prepared to find Pepper himself and make her listen to what he has to say. “It’s because of me he’s even here!”

_“Fairly certain Gabriel will hire me.”_

“Gabriel. _Gabriel_!” Adam huffs a cough of laughter. “The same Gabriel that was about to slice your head clean off if I hadn’t stepped in. I’m the sole reason your life and husband are in the happy way they are right now. The reason that you have a life at all.”

Adam’s done. Done being there for beings who take him for granted. Done with the people around him not appreciating what his presence and leadership offers. The earth is the most at peace and prosperous of what it’s been since its creation. So, he cheats on his wife, men of his stature have always deserved those sorts of privileges. Look what he does for everyone else.

_It’s fine though. I won’t be begging for Pepper to come back. Hell, it’s time to tell her it’s over. I’m entitled to a spouse who understands the things I needs to do to unwind. A wife that won’t get upset over side affairs._

“Hey.” Isla’s voice pulls him away from his thoughts.

Adam halts and spins to face her. Her calm nonchalance doing very little to quell his anger. _I’ve been too soft on all of them. I’ve lost all respect among my people._ “What do you want?”

“To apologize for my actions in this whole fiasco.” Isla lets out an audible sigh, leaning against the door of her room. “And offer my help in making it right.”

“No tricks?” Adam clenches his fists at his side, prepared to turn and stalk away if she starts her mouth again. “Because I’m exhausted and I just want to tell Pepper face-to-face it’s over.”

“Good.” Isla let’s her door swing fully open and waves for Adam to follow her inside. “Me and Brian were just discussing that very same idea. Come in and we’ll all three work out a way to get Pepper where you need her.”

* * *

**Now**

Gabriel follows the trail of power to the forty-seventh landing, where it turns and enters the hallway of the adjacent floor. He considers calling down to Uriel for back-up but thinks better of the idea. It would be unwise to leave the upper and lower floors without a guard between.

The pulsing of power grows stronger as he moves, turning to the left and leading him towards the rooms on the back wall of the floor.

Gabriel is more than a little surprised by the vacancy of other beings and the silence surrounding him. He expected some of the angels to be meandering about and going against the protocols he and his colleagues had placed on them. Then he recalls that this area contains the more level-headed group, the ones not wanting chaos, leaving him to wonder how bad it is on the lower floors of the building? Are they staying to their rooms or consorting and scheming? Gabriel is fairly certain he knows the answers, especially if Yemuel is the example to go by. The groups of angels _are_ separated for a reason.

Turning right and moving as quietly as possible, he follows the flow of the energy to a closed door positioned just beyond the mid-way point of the back wall. At least it seems closed at first but, to the archangels well received surprise, it nudges slightly open when he lays his palm against the wood.

No sound is made but Gabriel freezes just the same. Waiting for a beat of ten seconds, he holds his breath and barely moves. The last thing he wants is for Adam, Ligur or whoever is on the other side to realize he’s here.

The air coming from the crack in the door is oddly hot. Not the sort of heat to make you perspire, but an uncomfortable dry heat. The kind that makes your skin burn and leaves you wishing that more than anything you could sweat because your inability to do so makes you feel as if your very life force is going to suffocate and wither from within your flesh shell.

The heat prickles at Gabriel’s face but he continues to push his way in cautiously. The room is dim but not dark. There is enough light to make everything visible and still leave a blanket of threatening gloom on all that is present.

It’s one of the smaller suites, so he presses himself against the wall of the entryway and carefully peeks around the corner to where the area opens up fully. To his left is a bathroom, just past the door of which is a bare wall with brackets which had previously held up a flatscreen that has been removed.

Directly ahead lay three bodies. The two adult angels, Adriel and Artiya’lil, Gabriel recognizes as members of **Paradise Found** , a band who regularly performs for the pleasure of the human souls of Paradise. They were also scheduled to perform the following weekend for the annual dance held the first weekend of the retreat. Gabriel’s heart nearly shatters at the sight of their fledgling, no more than six, wrapped in their father’s arms. All three dead from stab wounds caused by a cursed object.

To the archangel’s right is the bedroom, this area equipped with two beds, one a double, one a single. A floor-length mirror sits between the two and at the foot of them is Adam Young, tied to a chair and facing the mirror.

_This isn’t right._ Gabriel shakes his head trying to make sense of the scene. _Adam’s the killer. Why would he be tied to the chair?_

He slips back into the hall and pulls his communications device from the front pocket of his trousers. Lifting it, he lowers the volume and taps to group video call Uriel and Aziraphale.

“Hello?” Blond curls and a round face greet him first. The principality is wearing a pair of wire-rimmed reading glasses and is sitting on the floor of what looks to be the auditoriums sound-room. His forehead crinkles and his eyes flash with concern. “Gabriel, is everything alright?”

“No.” Gabriel whispers, shaking his head and Uriel appears on the screen as well. She’s not given a chance to speak as Gabriel, keeping his voice only loud enough to be barely audible, continues. “I’ve got the sound turned down on this phone and we all need to be very quiet.”

“What’s happening?” Uriel glances up the stairwell behind her. Gabriel isn’t sure whether she’s thinking of him and the direction he had gone or to the demon several floors higher. He wouldn’t blame her at all if it is the latter. “Should I get Dagon? Do you need back-up?”

“I need you both to see this and tell me what you make of it. But whatever happens don’t make a sound.” He emphasizes the last four words of the sentence and turns to slip again into the dimly lit room. “If anything goes wrong, gather everyone together in the dancehall and prepare to fight.”

Gabriel clicks the icon on his screen to turn the camera front facing and brings the captive anti-christ into the other two angels’ views.

“Hello?” Adam calls into the space around him. Gabriel fears he’s been spotted until the he realizes the human’s attention is focused on movement from within the mirror.

Gabriel pushes himself against the foyer wall as far out of sight as possible while still allowing his colleagues to see what he is witnessing. Isla and Ligur emerge from the glass, which shimmers around them like water from a pool.

He watches Aziraphale’s eyes go wide. The principality taps Wensleydale’s arm and mouths for the human to _get Crowley_. Uriel also responds by dashing up the stairwell.

“Please.” Adam begs, sounding on the verge of crying. His attention is focused on Isla. “Whatever it is you have planned, don’t. We’ve been friends for so long. I’m sorry for the things I’ve done to hurt you.”

“This isn’t personal.” Isla laughs, her face contorting in a snide grin. “Well, not personal between me and you. My issue goes back millennia before you were even born.”

“I don’t. Um what?” Adam says, apparently s confused as Gabriel feels.

“You were our scapegoat. Our red-herring.” She pulls a necklace from beneath her dark blue T-shirt and proceeds to lift it over her head. The chain is silver, as is the spiral wrap holding a black, polished stone in place. The stone is cut into an elongated hexagon and is filed to a point at each end. The energy from the jewelry is strong, it’s power flashing, unseen, like an invisible warning sign to all in the room. “And now the means to an end.”

“Hey!” Gabriel announces his presence and steps into the room, paying no attention to Uriel and Aziraphale’s miming attempts for him to be silent and instead ends the call. “I can not condone the horrible things you have done and demand you stop what you are about to do.”

He's scared shitless, but that doesn’t stop him from bluffing his over-the-top style of confidence. It’s been his thing for the entirety of his time running Heaven. He’s always been afraid. In the beginning it was the fears of his new responsibilities and later of losing power. It was the fear of being thrown from his role of importance that had driven him to lose himself and become so previously cruel. The past eighteen years he’s tried to move away from the seemingly heartless archangel image he had built and become someone new, someone who represented what an angel should be.

Not that he didn’t sometimes fall back into the role in times of stress, and if he were ever going to play the part of the overconfident corporate twit, there is no better time than _now_ to do so.

“What’s wrong pops?” Isla forgets about Adam and moves with purpose in Gabriel’s direction. “Not keen on the idea that your only surviving fledgling turned out too much like you used to be?”

* * *

Her mother’s darkness twists like a worm around Isla’s heart causing her to smile with unfettered delight at the expression that settles across Gabriel’s ridiculous face. “You thought She got us all, didn’t you? Your Principality was there to make certain of that.”

“I didn’t.” The archangel looks to be torn between reaching for her and running in fear. He seems to choose a middle-ground and begins to walk backwards out of the suite. “It’s not what I wanted, and from what I hear, Aziraphale turned his head as Crowley saved some of you anyway.”

“No, Aziraphale turned his head while the demon saved human children.” Isla and the stone share power as she speaks. “The same kindness was not offered to my kind. Your God made certain of that.”

“That wasn’t what I intended.” Gabriel clears the doorway and continues to move in reverse down the long corridor. “It’s why I placed Aziraphale there. I had hoped he wouldn’t go through with it.”

“Well, I guess your wayward angel even messed up messing up, huh?” She picks up her pace as he turns to run. Reaching out with her powers, she takes hold of the archangel with unseen hands and slams him against the wall. “Luckily, three of us got to safety among the humans, thanks to the Serpent. Not because he knew he was saving a race of creatures, but because he thought he was saving humanity.”

“Then why hurt him?” Gabriel jerks his arms in an attempt to break free of the force holding him in place. “Why attack his husband, their child?”

“I don’t owe you an explanation.” The rage and pain of all those millennia spew out in five words. The centuries of living orphaned and abandoned, of finding the creature who would become her, then his, mother and would train Isla to become what she is today. Something much more than the discarded carcass her father and his God had intended. “An in a few more moments you won’t exist to care.”

She had planned to use the crystal on the anti-christ, but with a little extra work she can use the pendant to corrupt an archangel’s powers before transferring the energy to her companion. Isla steps to her pinned father and presses the stone to the center of his forehead. She delights in the way his eyes grow wild with fear.

“I’m sorry.” The stone starts to pulse and Gabriel’s face contorts as his essence is pulled from him against his will. “I wanted to stop it, stop Her. Please _try_ to understand.”

“I do understand.” Isla holds his gaze. “It’s why I’ve continued the cleansing She has apparently given up on.”

A single tear runs down his right cheek. “I’m sorry I let you down.”

His words were not at all what Isla was expecting, throwing off her concentration and causing her to hesitate. It’s at this moment Ligur screams from where she’d left him with Adam and Yemuel bursts into the hall from the stairwell door to her far right.

“You!” Isla calls out to the desk-clerk she recognizes as an ally to her cause. “You support the cleansing of Heaven from the hybrids and the separation from demons, yes?”

“So, it’s you? You’re our champion?” Yemuel rushes to her side. “What do you need of me?”

“He has no spiritual powers and I’ve weakened him physically.” Isla drops Gabriel at Yemuel’s feet. With a flourish of her hand she holds the same infernal blade that had been used to kill Mastiel. “Hold him here while I help my other.”

Yemuel hesitates briefly, eyes tracing over the weapon being offered. Eventually he nods, gathers Gabriel from the floor and holds the archangel to the wall at blade point.

_What now?_ Isla thinks as she hastens in the direction of her associate’s shrill scream. She’s been working towards this week her entire existence and it seems like now that it’s finally coming to fruition everything that can go wrong has. _It’s my own fault. I apparently underestimated these bumbling fools._

Rounding again into the suite she had taken hours earlier by force she comprehends just how much she’s underestimated them all. The chair which had once held Adam is empty, his restraints laying haphazard across the arm of the piece of furniture and the floor. A steaming pile of melted energy that had been Ligur is puddled on the floor.

But that’s not the worst of it. No, the worst of it is the surge of energy that bursts through all of Heaven like a bomb, spreading out, encompassing everything and knocking Isla on her ass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Isla's necklace


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, where have I been? I've had the worst, most exhausting month of my life. Had a falling out with someone I care about a lot. Then I caught and fought Covid (still not fully recovered from that). Watched as my child and my parents also struggled with the virus. And to top it all off, my job is beyond stressful.
> 
> This story should have one more chapter after this one. I thought this would be the last chapter, but it didn't work out that way. I'm having trouble writing. My self esteem is weakened as is my already rusty grasp on putting thoughts into words. Both caused by each of the occurrences listed in the paragraph above. I'm going to keep going, just please forgive if my updates slow down or if there are extended periods between new stories. Also let me know of any grammatical errors or timeline discrepancies I may need to clean up in the story. My brain is still foggy. But I assure you, I love doing this too much to quit. So, terrible writer or not, I'm not going away.
> 
> Love to you all that have stuck with me so far. Thank you <3

**20 Minutes Earlier**

“We’re going to get through this.” Crowley kisses Aziraphale, pushing as much reassurance as he possibly can into the action. “And I’m going to get us home.”

“I know you are Darling.” Aziraphale’s grip tightens rather than loosens on Crowley’s hands. “Please be careful. There may still be dangers wandering below. Remember Pepper’s call that Yemuel has renewed his attempts to get to me”

“I’ll be fine Dove.” Crowley flexes the fingers Aziraphale has clamped in his vice-like grasp until the angel finally relents and loosens his hold. “I won’t let him get anywhere near you and I’ll do my damnedest to stay where you can see me unless something happens outside of my control. If you look and can’t visually locate me, text. If for any reason I need to wander from where you have a visual, I’ll text you.”

“Thank you darling.” Aziraphale runs his fingers through the soft hair just above Crowley’s snake tattoo. Smiling through the worry reflected in his eyes, the blond drops his hand and backs toward his pile of books. “I love you Crowley.”

“I love you too.” Crowley returns his angel’s smile. Leaving, he can hear Aziraphale’s phone chiming with an incoming call as he exits the sound room.

Navigating his descent to the ground floor, Crowley had fully intended to do exactly as he’d told Aziraphale. The demon completely planned on rejoining the crowds milling about in the dance hall, but that was before he spotted the strange woman.

Arriving at the bottom of the spiral stairs, Crowley only needs to turn left and step through a small metal door to rejoin the mass of misplaced refugees. The woman is just off to his right, with short blonde hair and her face hidden in shadows. Crowley is unable to detect if she is angel, demon or human, which makes him feel more than a little uncomfortable.

“You’re not allowed in this area.” Crowley calls to the being, in as polite, yet authoritative manner as possible. “Would you follow me?”

“No.” She shakes her head, short blonde strands wisping about with the action and beckons him with her hand. “I need you to follow me.”

“Yeah, I think that’s not going to happen.” Crowley tries moving his legs with the intent of backing once again up the stairs and to Aziraphale. Panic overtakes him when he realizes he’s incapable of movement. “What are you doing?”

“I’m attempting to save my step-son’s life.” She states matter-of-factly. “I’m a big fan of free-will, so your options are to willingly do as I say or I’m going to have to leave you cemented to that spot while I have your pregnant husband stop Ligur and Isla in your stead.”

“Isla?” Crowley shakes his head, none of this is making sense. “Did you say _Isla_ and Ligur?”

“I did.” She huffs and looks around. “Now are you going to help, or do I need to get Aziraphale? He’s always been more than eager to act on my commands.”

Her eyes spark with a sort of static as She steps into the light from an adjacent window and Crowley finally recognizes Her. “God?”

“Brilliant use of deduction. Yes it’s me.” She waves Her arms, Her impatience growing ever more evident. “Didn’t think I was that easy to forget. Now will you please go? Our supervising archangel can only keep Isla distracted for so long before she kills him too.”

Crowley finds himself free of whatever hold is upon him as Wensleydale comes bounding down the stairs out of breath and flushed.

“Gabriel’s in trouble.” The young man gasps. “Adam’s not the killer, it’s Isla. She’s about to kill them bo-…. God?” He quirks his head looking the deity over. “How are you here?”

“I’m not here.” God grimaces, raking Her hands over Her face. “Well, not entirely here. Only kind of here. It’s hard to explain, but it’s why I need you to handle this for me because I can’t leave this building. Get Isla and Ligur to follow you here. Lucifer won’t be far behind. He can handle the rest.”

“Okay. I’m on it.” Crowley has so many more questions. _Why is my former boss here? Is my former boss here or only partially here like You? Is that what ‘not entirely here’ means? And why can’t You leave this building?_ But he feels this isn’t the best moment for all of them. Instead, he asks what he believes to be the most relevant. The first to Wensleydale. “Will you let Aziraphale know where and why I’ve gone?” The young man nods. Then to God. “Where’s Adam and how do I get to him?”

“That way is a mirror.” She points down the length of the dark corridor, in the direction She had beckoned Crowley to follow earlier. “That surge of power you felt less than an hour ago was Isla placing a few of them strategically as doorways for herself and Ligur to travel between. Enter and follow eastward toward the hotel. You won’t need to travel far, distance is different in the mirrors. Within moments of entering you’ll see an opening to the lobby, pass it by and go to the next which will lead to a hotel suite. That’s where you’ll find Adam tied to a chair and being watched over by Ligur.”

“Wait!” Wensleydale calls out as Crowley takes his first long stride toward where God asked him to go. “He’ll need some sort of weapon.”

“Jeremy is right.” God graces the human with a gentle smile then swivels Her head to face Crowley. “I was told you have a holy water super soaker.”

“Left it with Dagon and Isla in Gabriel’s suite in case Ligur came for them.” Crowley rolls his head in frustration. “Can’t believe we were all fooled by a human.”

“She’s not human.” God states. “I’m still unsure what she is, but it’s definitely not human. So be careful.” She waves Her hand dismissively. “Just miracle the gun to yourself.”

“He can’t. Someone took away his ability to miracle.” Wensleydale glances up the staircase at the sound of Aziraphale now descending.

“I’m betting that was Isla too.” God rubs Her forehead and presses an earpiece nestled in Her right ear. “Darling are you there?” She appears frustrated and worried as She mumbles to Herself. “This can’t be good.” Looking again to Crowley. “Do you have any water? I think I’m able to bless it, even in this only half here state.”

“I have so many questions.” Crowley is beyond bewildered as Wensleydale scurries around the corner to the kitchen, returning seconds later, a bottle of water in hand.

“Perfect.” God waves Her hand near the clear, plastic container and points to Crowley. “Use this against Ligur, there isn’t much to be done about Isla, so good luck.”

Crowley takes the newly weaponized beverage from the human and hurries away.

_Forgive me Dove._ Is Crowley’s last thought as he enters the water-like waves of the mirror’s glass and hears Aziraphale’s sweet, shocked voice address God and ask. “Oh, hello, L-lord. Wh-where’s Crowley?”

* * *

Lucifer stumbles when his feet make contact with the loose sand of the beach. One moment he and his rekindled love are working on an all new universe in a parallel dimension, and the next God’s essence is being summoned by a frantic Brian who had somehow opened a communication line between Her and a six century old spell book.

All the human was able to tell them before he was forced to disconnect was that someone is murdering large numbers of celestials and infernals and the attacks all seemed aimed at demon/angel unions, their children and allies to those unions. The most troubling part, Brian believed the killer to be Lucifer’s son.

He prays that it isn’t true. That his offspring, who helped Lucifer himself to see the errors of his ways, hasn’t fallen so far from a good path in his absence.

As if in response to his prayers (and most likely to an extent it is, as She is always in tune to his particular thoughts and needs) the communication device in Lucifer’s ear crackles to life.

“Adam isn’t the killer, but he _is_ in danger.” God’s voice pushes through the electronic static. Honestly, the connection is quite impressive considering it’s reaching across alternate dimensions and not just space. “I watched, undetected, over Aziraphale’s shoulder while he and young Jeremy Wensleydale video chatted with Gabriel and Uriel. I didn’t stay for the whole thing, but I did see Adam tied to a chair and Isla Kensington and Ligur preparing to destroy him.”

“Where is he?” Lucifer scans the boardwalk for signs of life.

“The hotel, 47th floor, room 47185.” God continues to talk as Lucifer starts running to the large structure. “You’ll need to take on a disguise so as not to give away our advantage with Isla. Find someone she trusts and take on their form.”

“That’s going to take longer than we have sweetheart.” The devil picks up speed as he gets closer. “And Adam doesn’t have that kind of time.”

“Crowley is approaching now. I’ll have him get our boy.”

The transmission ends as Lucifer finds himself standing just outside one of the lobbies large windows. Thinking it best not to enter through the front and give away his advantage, he snaps his fingers and projects himself to the other side of the glass.

As he does so he overhears Pepper and a very pregnant demon having an argument with some overly aggressive, angelic asshole.

“You want to fight me, little demon-slut?” Angelic asshole eyes the human and demon and Lucifer cocks his head in wonder at his daughter-in-law’s protective stance in from of the pregnant being.

“Don’t think it’ll be much of a fight.” The demoness flicks a lighter and Lucifer can feel the infernal energy from the flame as she lifts it from the Bic and rolls it around in her hand. “I think it would be in your best interest to return to your room, or else my friend here is going to need to cuff you and and take you to our designated holding cell.”

Lucifer continues to watch the interaction and decides this dipshit is exactly who he’ll be impersonating. There’s no way in Heaven or Hell the creepy angel isn’t somehow a follower of Isla’s.

When the angel finally retreats, he moves toward the emergency stairwell, and Lucifer promptly follows.

* * *

“Hey!” Uriel watches in terror as Gabriel calls out to Isla and Ligur, seconds later his end of the group chat goes dead.

“Go get your husband, I’m going after Dagon.” Uriel is already climbing the stairs as she speaks to a wide-eyed and just as frightened principality. “We’ll convene with you soon.”

“Do be careful dear.” Aziraphale says seconds before his portion of the call ends. Something in Uriel’s chest warms at the fact that the younger angel actually seems sincere in his words, meaning he may finally be learning to trust her and the others after all this time. Uriel can’t blame him for how long it has taken. The archangels _had_ done terrible things to him and his husband.

Uriel has gone upward roughly fifteen floors when another blast of energy hits her and she can feel her angelic powers returning. Snapping her fingers, she is elated to find herself miracled into Gabriel’s suite and looking at her demon, lounging safe and sound on the large horseshoe sofa.

“Uriel?” Dagon leaps to her feet, concern spreading across her sharp features. She rushes to Uriel and takes the archangel’s biceps in her hands. “What’s wrong?”

“Thank God you’re alright.” Uriel laughs and rests her forehead against Dagon’s. “I feared she’d hurt you too.”

“Who?” Dagon pulls her head back and drops her head to catch Uriel’s eyes.

“Isla.” Uriel pulls away and looks around the room. “Adam’s not the killer, Isla is. Last I saw her she was about to dispose of Adam and I fear Gabriel may have made himself next.”

“That’s impossible.” Dagon tugs Uriel in the direction of the hall of rooms. “She went to her room close to an hour ago and hasn’t left the suite.”

“Why are none of the demon’s milling about.” Uriel wonders at the quiet of the hallway.

“They’re safe.” Dagon assures her angel. “They had been troublesome earlier, but I finally convinced them to all go to bed nearly an hour and a half ago.” As if to prove her point, a demon exits his room, gives Uriel a cold glare and proceeds to the shared washroom. “See. But it might be best if we get you out of sight before any more of them spot you.”

Uriel takes the lead and pulls Dagon to the sixteenth door on the right and knocks aggressively. No one answers, so instead of risking waking and drawing the attention of every demon on this floor, she flicks her wrist, and the door swings open.

The room is empty except for Isla’s bed and a tall floor length mirror just like the ones used by Ligur at the other crime scenes.

“This is how they’re travelling.” Uriel takes her demon’s hand and squeezes. “Isla and Ligur that is. Through the mirrors.”

“You said Adam and Gabriel are in trouble?” Dagon’s brows rise and she inhales a deep yet shaky breath. “We better get a move on then, to save the hellspawn and archangel.”

“I can handle this on my own.” Uriel lifts Dagon’s hand to her lips and kisses the shimmering silver knuckles. “I’d feel better knowing you were safe.”

“I think not.” Dagon squeezes her angel’s hand one last time before releasing their joined hold and stepping first through the glass of the mirror.

* * *

It takes less than five minutes for Lucifer to catch up with the angel. After learning his name, Yemuel, (it’s still amazing how even the most pompous of beings will lose their bravado when faced with Satan himself) and taking on his form, Lucifer snaps Yemuel into the service lift between the 20th and 21st floors and cuts the power to the contraption until he can incarcerate the asshole properly.

Cracking his neck and rolling his shoulders, The Morningstar miracles himself into the stairwell landing of the 47th floor. Just in time too, because he enters the floor to the sound of Ligur’s screams and the sight of Gabriel being held against the wall by a small human with extraordinary strength and being drained of not just his powers but also his life force.

“You!” Isla calls to the disguised devil. “You support the cleansing of Heaven from hybrids and the separation from demons, yes?”

Lucifer is quick to respond, rushing to her side. “So, it’s you? You’re our champion? What do you need of me?”

“He has no spiritual powers and I’ve weakened him physically.” Isla releases Gabriel and he crumples at Lucifer’s feet. She waves her hand and produces a hellfire cursed blade. “Hold him here while I help my other.”

Lucifer thinks it’s best to pretend fright at the weapon. No true angel would grab a cursed dagger without hesitation. After what he feels is an appropriate pause he nods, takes the weapon, lifts Gabriel to his feet and holds the archangel at blade-point.

He doesn’t break the charade for a count of ten, after which asking. “Is she out of sight?”

Gabriel blinks rapidly, staring at his captor. “What?”

“Ugh.” Lucifer curls his lip and looks for himself. Noting the absence of the weird little human, he relinquishes his hold on the archangel. “We need to go.”

“I don’t know what’s happening.” Gabriel shakes his head. “But after the way you’ve abused and mistreated Aziraphale and Crowley, I’m not too keen on following you anywhere.”

“Yeah. Don’t blame you but Yemuel isn’t actually here.” Lucifer lets the glamour fade away, revealing his regular human visage to his former enemy. “What are your feelings on following me?”

Gabriel’s face goes slack in shock, as he realizes who he’s actually standing in the presence of, before transitioning into a child-like smile that overtakes his face. “I’m more than happy to say, that I am absolutely willing to follow wherever you command sir.”

“Good.” Lucifer indicates with a jerk of his head toward the stairwell. “Let’s get to the dance hall. But first.”

With a loud clap of his hands together, Lucifer returns everyone’s ability to miracle while attempting to draw those energies away from Isla.

* * *

Isla pushes herself onto her elbows from where she had been knocked flat on her back on the floor. Shaking her head and looking about while attempting to figure out what the fuck just happened, she catches a flash of red hair, black t-shirt and board shorts.

She scrambles with as much speed as possible to her feet and hurries to where Yemuel should still be holding Gabriel hostage. To her ever-growing disappointment, they are also gone along with the infernal dagger she had given the desk clerk.

“Son of a bitch.” Isla hisses through gritted teeth.

She throws out her awareness, to track the presences of Crowley, Gabriel and the rest of their interfering gang. Whatever shot through here moments ago is powerful. So much more powerful than even the stone her mother’s sister had gifted to her all those millennia ago. Out of habit Isla places her hand around the stone still chained around her neck and breaths out in relief that _it_ is at least still with her.

She does find it disconcerting, however, that whatever new power source has arrived is pushing back at her own magical and miracle abilities. If it weren’t for her stone, Isla is fairly certain that whatever this power is would have removed her abilities as she had removed everyone else’s. As she currently stands, her faculties have merely been dulled. Not that she doesn’t have ways of fixing that.

Realizing that she _has_ lost the ability to locate and track other beings, she jogs back into the suite and towards the mirror. If she is to track down her former colleagues, it seems she’ll need to do it the old-fashioned way.

_It’s not like I don’t already know where they’ll all congregate together._ Isla tells herself as she steps into the mirror and chases in the direction she’s more than certain Crowley has gone. _They’ll round themselves into the dancehall along with the hybrids and I’ll take them all out in one failed swoop._

Her powers might be dulled to track them, but she’s fully aware she still has the ability to conjure and wake the dead. And this time she won’t give them as much cognizance or free will as she had given Ligur.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Looks like this is going to be longer than 19 chapters after all. Looking at twenty chapters now, unless the characters drag the story out on me again when I write it lol.  
> I apologize for the length between updates these days. Seems that one of the after effects of having Covid is I can't string words together easily anymore. My doctor assures me this is normal for some and will eventually go away, but might take up to six months to do so.  
> At this rate I'm only capable of writing maybe a paragraph or two a day, resulting in a chapter every two and a half weeks rather than my old speed of a chapter every four days.  
> Regardless, I hope you enjoy the new chapter and that the language isn't too juvenile or choppy. My writing skills have been set back dramatically.  
> Love you all, thanks for sticking with me <3

Although in the past she’d been able to convince her coworkers otherwise, Dagon has never been brave. It’s easy to fake it when you have an implement of torture in hand and your victim is either strapped to a table or chained to the wall.

She’d found it more difficult to hide her true self after the signing of The Truce, but then, she reminds herself, she doesn’t need to hide who she really is under this new social climate. Most have come to realize that demons aren’t inherently evil. Hell, Lucifer himself isn’t evil, just an angel who made a very dramatic misstep.

No, evil is Isla, the angels calling demons unworthy, the demons spewing hate at angels, and Ligur. Dagon has to admit, that last one hurts the most, to once again find herself on the opposite side of someone she’d considered a friend.

Not that Dagon doesn’t consider herself also tainted for the role she’d played over 6000 years. To her credit though, she had never been fond of hurting others, quite the opposite really. Much like Beelzebub and unlike Hastur and Ligur, Dagon had faked enjoyment at her job. A demon had to survive after all.

Thank Satan, Hastur had learned to love and be gentle in his own asshole, prankster, juvenile bully sort of way. Sandalphon had helped him find that part of himself.

Dagon glances to the angel who now moves to stand beside her. She loves Uriel for the part the archangel has played in helping Dagon find who she is. Beelzebub had helped her through the millennia of hiding, but Uriel, and the past 18 years, have been Dagon’s discovery of her freedom. The archangel becoming her closest companion while the demon finally learned who she is and how to breath, truly breath, for the first time since her creation.

As they stand side by side, one another’s strength, the same as they are every day in Paradise, Dagon knows she’s found her bravery. Uriel is and will always be Dagon’s courage.

Their surroundings, unsurprisingly, are the mirror opposite but an exact replica of the world to which they are accustomed.

“So, what’s our game plan?” Dagon continues to watch her companion and the archangel faces her in return. “Where do we go once we’ve saved your goofball colleague and spoiled earth-leader?”

“Gabriel said for everyone to gather in the dance hall and I agree with that plan.” Uriel’s dark eyes dance across Dagon’s face. Even when speaking with authority, the love the archangel feels for the demon is too palpable to be ignored. “We’ll be safer together and a stronger force for the fight that’s coming.”

“On which floor are Gabriel and Adam being held?” Dagon reaches the room’s door first and opens it cautiously. Looking both ways, she ensures the hallway is clear of any resurrected demons or angry sorcerers before she steps into the low light and waves for Uriel to follow.

“That’s our biggest problem. I’m not sure.” Uriel slides her hand down Dagon’s arm, steps into the hall past her demon and takes the lead to exit the suite.

Midway through the sitting room, the couple are hit with a surge of power. Uriel stops dead in her tracks and swivels her head, a smile spreading over her beautiful features. “You feel that? I think I can track them now.”

“My powers are back.” Dagon flexes her fingers and chuckles with relief at the sensation. After a moment of awe at the feeling she never knew she’d miss so much, Dagon looks again to Uriel. The archangel sways, her eyes closed. Reaching out with her senses to to find their companions, her brow furrows in confusion.

“What?” Dagon feels a renewed tinge of panic. “Are they hurt? What do you feel?”

“Shhh, sweetheart. They seem fine for now.” Uriel’s voice is gentle and calming. “They’re in no immediate danger. However, Gabriel is running, and Adam seems extremely confused.”

“They got away?”

“I believe so.” Uriel opens her eyes and takes Dagon’s hand. “We need to hurry.”

* * *

Crowley thinks it must be by some miracle on God’s part that none of the holy water hits him as he douses Ligur. “Fuck, hope I’m never forced to do that again. Twice is two times too many.”

“Crowley?” Adam looks to his former friend in wide-eyed hope as he wriggles against the ropes holding his arms and legs. “Oh, thank Dad! Look, I’m so, so sorry for being a prick. Please get me out of here.”

“That’s my plan kid.” Crowley tosses the toxic water bottle across the room. Carefully avoiding the puddle of Ligur, he then moves to Earth’s leader and drops to his knees to undo the bindings around the young man’s ankles. “And you’ve definitely been a right prick, can’t argue with that.”

Crowley smiles when Adam goes still and whispers. “Yeah, sorry.”

“I accept your apology, but make sure you don’t stop your apologies with just me.” Legs freed, Crowley stands and shifts to work on the ropes around the human’s wrists. “And your sorries are worthless if you don’t actively change your attitude and the way you treat others.”

Adam doesn’t respond and it leaves Crowley hoping the sweet eleven-year-old boy, who stopped Armageddon, continues to exist somewhere deep inside this young man. That Adam is taking in Crowley’s words and actively considering changing his ways.

Finally released from his seated prison, Adam stands, rubbing his wrist. “Where to now?”

“Back into the mirror, to the lobby.” Crowley gestures for Adam to follow him into the glass. “We need to get Pepper and Arakiel and join everyone at the dance hall to prepare for the fight of our lives.”

“Pepper and Arakiel?” Adam stumbles over the word with what sounds, to Crowley’s relief, more like nerves than disgust.

“Yeah kid.” Crowley steps behind Adam and pushes him through the reflective doorway and hurries him to the mirror world’s stairwell. “If you don’t give them trouble, I’m very certain they won’t give you any. Because, unless I’m losing my touch on deciphering the obvious, both seem to have moved on and found someone else.”

“What?” Adam asks, out of breath as he runs just a few steps ahead of Crowley and pushes open the stairwell door.

“Ngk. You’ll see.” Crowley’s attention is yanked from their conversation when he spots the flash of red and dark hair descending onto the landing below. “Oi! Uriel! Dagon!”

“Crowley!” Dagon breaks into a smile, the presence of which reveals her actual joy at seeing him and the human in front of him. “Adam! You’re both okay!”

“I was able to get the hell-spawn out of Isla and Ligur’s hold before they could kill him. Isla is the murderer, she was trying to pin it on Adam this whole time.” Crowley follows the human to their two coworkers and the four of them begin a hurried descent together. “Gabriel is in danger too. Unfortunately to get Adam out of harms way, I wasn’t able to get Gabriel out of there.”

“We’re well aware of Isla’s involvement.” Uriel turns her head slightly and nods to Adam. “And of your innocence in this. Aziraphale and I were on a visual call with Gabriel when he called out to Isla and Ligur, stopping them from killing you.”

The group reaches the bottom level and Dagon is the first to push through the door to the lobby, followed by Uriel, Adam and last Crowley. No sooner do Crowley’s feet meet the dark blue carpeting, than the floor beneath them starts to ripple like ocean waves, rolling under foot and causing each of them to stumble and grab onto one another for support.

“We need to get out!” Crowley yelps, too frightened to be disappointed in the way his voice goes higher and more panicked than he would typically like. The walls around them are shifting now as well and beginning to squeeze in closer.

No one argues, the other three deciphering quickly the danger they are all in if they stay here. At the speed the walls and ceiling are compacting inward, Crowley is guessing they have about 30 seconds before they’ll be crushed into discorporation and very likely trapped in this realm of Isla’s making. Thank Someone, due to Crowley’s quick instincts and orders and Uriel, Dagon and Adam’s lack of protest and fast response, the quartet are down the hall and through the mirror before it blinks out of existence, with a good three seconds to spare.

“What just happened?” Uriel’s eyes are wild, flicking between Crowley and Adam. She runs a hand over Dagon’s back, the demon is bent forward, hands on her knees and trying to catch her breath.

“I think she knows us well enough to figure out our game plan.” Crowley swivels his head about, searching for and not finding any signs of danger, but does spot Pepper and Arakiel within hearing distance and approaching. “And we’ve known her long enough, that I’m going to take an educated guess at what’s happening. Isla is smart, she’s worked with me, Aziraphale, Adam and Gabriel for nearly a decade and she’s almost certainly concluded that we will be congregating in the same large structure in which we’re keeping her intended victims.”

“That’s why she destroyed the current pathway between mirrors.” Uriel nods. Crowley has always appreciated her intelligence and silent assuredness. Not that he’d say it out loud, but Crowley had always found it much easier to tolerate (dare he say like?) Uriel over the other archangels. That was until her active betrayal of Beelzebub. “Destroy the paths we have access to that allow faster travel and open new routes that will take us too much time to find.”

“That way she can beat us to the dance hall and the majority of those we need to protect.” Pepper adds, taking hold of Arakiel’s hand, the couple watch Adam with caution.

“Fuck.” Crowley becomes almost dizzy with the sudden surge of renewed panic. “Aziraphale is there, without back-up.”

“I wouldn’t say that.” A deep voice breaks in from behind them. The three demons, one archangel and two humans all turn in unison to see Gabriel looking disheveled but very alive and beside him smirks the speaker, Lucifer himself. Both man-shaped beings having just exited the actual stairwell door. “He’s got Wensleydale with him.”

“You’re here too?!” Crowley shouts in a moment of relieved confusion. “Oh thank….well you.”

“Too?” Dagon had regained her composure not long into this conversation and now looks rapidly from face to face, holding Uriel’s hand so firmly that the archangel’s fingertips are pale with lack of blood flow. “Who else is here?”

“God.” Crowley claps Dagon on the shoulder and she relaxes a bit at the news.

“Well, She’s not exactly here.” Lucifer scrunches his nose and curls his lips as he and Gabriel leave the doorway to the stairwell and close the distance between themselves and the others. “She’s more like a hologram, transmitting from beyond the veil of this universe.”

“She’s here enough to bless a bottle of water and make it holy.” Crowley is hoping his former boss can confirm his small flicker of hope, that God’s presence, in whatever form She’s present in, is sufficient to keep Aziraphale safe. “That leads me to, dare I say, have faith that Aziraphale has a lot more back-up than Wensleydale.”

“A bit, but Her connection keeping Her here isn’t the most stable and Her powers are extremely muted.” Lucifer points to the exit from the lobby onto the boardwalk. “We need to get a move on and I’ll explain on the way. Isla has most likely opened new pathways and has already beaten us to our intended destination.”

* * *

**Occurring Simultaneously**

“Brian summoned you, then?” Aziraphale shifts from foot to foot, his hands clasped protectively across his stomach. He’s angry and frightened and unable to direct those feelings at the being with which he’s conversing, although She _is_ the cause of both. “With a book you say?”

“Don’t be angry with your husband, Aziraphale.” God reaches out in a gesture to comfort, but Her hand passes through his shoulder. “I gave him no choice but to go.”

“I’m well aware of that, but it’s not as if I can easily express my ire at the being I feel _is_ at fault.” The principality lifts his chin in a visual show of confidence. He’s been surprising himself as of late with his growing boldness. “Therefore, in an effort to protect myself and my child from the wrong words leaving my lips and risk inciting Your wrath, perhaps we could speak on a different subject?”

“You never cease to amaze Me, Aziraphale.” God crosses Her arms over Her chest and gives the angel an appreciative once over. “Brian didn’t summon Me. I can’t be _summoned_ like some angel or demon. He called Me with the book.”

“There are spell books which can actually call God?” Aziraphale relaxes his shoulders, feeling extremely confident in himself. “Seems that sort of thing wouldn’t be practical.”

“It wouldn’t be, that’s why the information isn’t available in any format to humanity, only official realm leaders.” Her brow drops and she looks to Wensleydale. “Where is the book now?”

“Up stairs with all the others.” The human seems terrified to have been remembered.

“Go and watch over it.” God waves to the staircase. “Whatever you do, don’t close it, if you do so the call is muted and I can’t get to you until it is opened again. I can’t be hung up on unless someone officially ends the call. And guard it with from destruction. If something were to destroy the book it would be akin to cutting the phone lines. I’ll have no way of reaching any of you in time to help. At least this way I can still assist, even if my powers are seriously lessened.”

The angel and his Creator watch as the lanky human rushes up and out of sight. When Aziraphale hears the door close behind his friend, he turns his attention again to God. “If the information isn’t available to humans, how did Brian find it?”

“The book was in Gabriel’s library.” She waves Her hand in a circular motion, as if helping Herself form the words She wants to place between them. “It’s not a spell book either, as you called it earlier. It’s more of a supernatural phone book.”

“Like humans had in the days of landlines?” Aziraphale finds the simplicity of the idea almost too much to comprehend.

“Yeah, pretty much.” She pushes out Her lower lip and nods. “Every high ranking being has a copy as a way to contact me in cases of the most extreme emergencies.”

“Why not a device like the one in your ear?” Aziraphale points to where he’d seen God place her finger to call upon Lucifer. “Why go so old school with it?”

“Do you honestly believe, that if I made it so easy for Gabriel to contact Me, he wouldn’t be pestering Me daily?” She lowers Her chin and looks up at him with a sarcastic smirk. “I did it this way because it puts Me in the caller’s presence. Even Gabriel, in all his needy, overabundant obsequiousness, won’t bother Me too often if actually forced to face Me when doing so.”

Aziraphale tries to wrap his mind around the almost silly simplicity of the concept. “Okay, so, Brian contacts you through an exclusive phone directory and tells you, what? That Isla is the killer instead of Adam? And if Brian knew, why didn’t he inform any of us?”

“Brian didn’t know. When he contacted me, he thought Adam was behind it all and might come for him or any of you at any moment, he was terrified.” God’s presence flickers briefly, the last three words of Her sentence comprehendible but tinged with a higher pitched metallic tone to her voice. “He mentioned there was to be a mass evacuation the next day, that he wanted to go to safety but the……” Another glitch as She fades out briefly then back. “was only for select beings and he didn’t qualify. When he discovered through….”

God vanishes for a length of nearly ten seconds and Aziraphale raises his hands to where She had been and in a quavering voice asks. “Lord?”

He jumps back as She reappears, still speaking as though She didn’t notice Her own absence. “……decided his best course of action was to contact Me and I’m pleased he did.”

“Yes, Almighty. Ummm, why are you glitching in and out like that?” The question barely makes it’s way from Aziraphale’s lips when he’s interrupted by shouts of fear from the open auditorium.

“Glitching?” God catches Aziraphale’s gaze as it happens again, this time less than a second of gone and back. “I was too consumed in my story to notice my surroundings change.”

More screams and the sound of a large gathering running. The mirror behind God, the one that Crowley had left through, vanishes. God turns Her head to stare at the now empty space. “Isla knows.”

“She’s coming?” Aziraphale looks up the stairs. “I should tell Wensleydale.”

“No, find your husband.” When God shifts again to face him, Aziraphale can see the worry there. She gets out only a few more words, fading in and out until disappearing completely and not returning. “If I’m……in and out……means……the book. If I vanish, then……..dale is already dead.”

Aziraphale stands in stunned silence for an extended span. Over the course of a minute/minute and a half he prays that God will return. That what he’s deciphered from Her few words aren’t true.

The dread turns to panic as he realizes She’s not returning. He bolts up the stairs, hoping to reach Wensleydale in time while being more than certain he’s too late.

Because if Isla and Ligur are here and God is gone, then the book is destroyed, Wensleydale is most likely dead, and Isla and Ligur made it past Crowley.

His feet pounding up the stairs, Aziraphale can not bring himself to accept what that that last fact might mean.

* * *

**Also Occurring Simultaneously**

The sound room isn’t large, maybe 5 by 7 meters and currently filled with stacks of books cluttering the floor. With no real furniture in the small space, other than a sound and light board and two swivel chairs, the hardwood surface is the only available place to keep the texts.

Returning Wensleydale makes a beeline around the clutter, to the book he had, thankfully, left open on the floor when Aziraphale had sent him for Crowley. He picks it up carefully and looks about the room making sure to not allow it to close. His goal is to place it somewhere safe and get back to the book he had been pouring over before their previous chaos had become a lot more confusing chaos.

The volume doesn’t resemble the sort of tome in which one might imagine a God summoning text to appear. It looks more like the old phone books that Wensleydale had often seen beside his grandparents’ old landline while visiting them on holidays.

It’s a thin paperback containing God’s, Lucifer’s, and Adam’s names along with the names of high-ranking angels and demons and important political establishments. After each being’s or building’s name is a string of Latin words in the place of a phone number.

Pulling his thoughts from the quaint novelty of the paperback, Wensleydale instead thinks over the pros and cons of his new situation while continuing and failing in his quest to find a sturdy, cleared surface on which to keep the God calling book open and secure.

Pros, his lifelong best friend _is not_ a genocidal, cold-blooded killer and has not deserted them. God and Satan are now here as back-up and with that sort of reinforcement there’s no way they can lose this now.

Cons, the last bit of information Wensleydale has been given on his lifelong best friend is that said friend is at the threat of being murdered by the _actual_ genocidal, cold-blooded murderers, both of those heartless killers are still very present in Heaven and planning an attack soon, and Wensleydale and his friends are split up and may not be together when this attack begins.

He decides that his research is far too important to ignore any longer and in his messy surroundings he concludes the safest place for the book in his hand will be on the floor beside him as he returns his attention to the other text.

Settling himself, again, onto the patch of floor he’d earlier cleared for himself, Wensleydale places the thin summoning directory beside his left thigh and pulls his legs in criss-cross. He lifts the book he’d been reading previously, **A Treatise of Angels, Demons and their Human Lineages** , and smirks at the coincidence.

This is the book containing information about Isla’s ancestor, Reginald, and the work he had done on beings similar to the ones his descendant has taken a notion to eradicate. Wensleydale is certain her motive _has_ to be listed in these pages and hopes that included with it is a way to stop her.

He finds the place he’d left off, a telling of how Reginald had been tried for heresy because of his theories on the Nephilim demise. That he’d believed God to be wrong in Her punishment and eradication of an entire race of beings and of humans in the process.

After diving another two paragraphs in and reaching the portion of Reginald’s life where he was arrested for, what the closed mindedness of the time considered, crimes against God and nature, Wensleydale is so engrossed in his reading that he doesn’t notice the charge of power behind him. Nor does he at first pick up on the gust of wind which swirls past him. That is, until the pages of the book resting beside his thigh all flip to one side, stopping on the front page rather than the page with God’s name.

The gentle fluttering sound draws his attention. Assuming an air conditioning draft to be the culprit, Wensleydale glances to the vent on the ceiling before turning the pages to their proper place and returning to his studying.

“Reading anything worthwhile?” The unwelcome new arrival asks from behind him. Wensleydale registers the voice as Isla’s just as the book beside him ignites.

In a panic, he jumps to a stand, throws the book in his hands aside and struggles to stamp out the flames with his foot. It takes several tries and by the time he is able to extinguish the fire the pages are ripped and barely hanging to their bindings.

“That.” Isla points to the battered book on the floor. “Needs to go.”

“Why?” Wensleydale bends to pick it up, but Isla flicks her hand at the wrist, and he finds himself no longer able to move. The human takes in a deep breath to steady his rising panic and finishes his thought. “What use have you for any of these books here? It isn’t as if they can help you.”

“Maybe not, but this one can hurt me.” Isla takes the tattered directory from the floor and lifts it to eye level. “I know She’s here and I can’t have that.”

“What are you planning to do with it?” Wensleydale gives Isla his iciest glare. He’s scared shitless but she doesn’t need to know that.

“Destroy it.” She curls her upper lip and something in the expression reminds Wensleydale of Gabriel. “Duh.”

“Over my dead body.” Wensleydale swallows with evident effort, dispelling any attempt at insinuating his bravery. The rest of his charade goes out the window when his face visually flinches at the sound of panicked screams from the auditorium below.

“That was the plan.” She continues to look at him in a condescending manner, shaking her head and her nostrils flaring. The last thing Wensleydale hears before the room is filled with a heavy energy, his body is consumed with pain and world goes dark is. “I need as much help as I can get.”


End file.
